Bordering on a dangerous obsession
by GigaTurk28
Summary: A Precocious Crush is just that. Harmless normally. But if taken too far by someone who was not brought up normally it can go beyond what's legal, safe, or sane and ventures into -bordering on a dangerous obsession-. A side story from the mighty Makokam's work and starts from chapter 60, after the Massacre. Likely not going to be... optimistic. Uncomfortable subjects ahoy!
1. Chapter 1 (PC Chapter 60-B)

Bordering on a dangerous obsession - Chapter 1

 _This takes place starting on Chapter 60, and, assumes the deleted scene from Chapter 52 did in fact happen._

* * *

It took seeing the list of the dead for it to really sink in for me. Here I was, trying to win Dave over like a fucking rube and he could catch a ricochet in the next fight and die.

I could be alone just like that.

 _Fuck_ that.

I had to win in a fight I had little to no skills in, and, little to no talents to speak off. Fucking mosquito bites of mine.

To win, I had to attack from a different angle. I had to pull a page outta Daddy's playbook. And I had to call in a debt.I still had the number memorized. I had a burner phone thanks to Dave. I made the call.

"Yes?" Came a voice I did not recognize.

"This is Mindy, I'd like to call in a debt."

"One moment."

After a minute the call transferred.

"Hello Mindy." This was a voice I knew.

"Hello Max. Can we meet?"

 **Oo0oO**

The next day, when Marcus had gone in to work early, I had gone to see Max. I found the place easily enough. I'm not gonna say where it is or any details, as if even a hint got out to anyone and Max would have to have me killed, debt or no debt.

I'm good, but even I have to sleep.

After a quick conversation at the gate, I was lead into his parlor. Yeah he had a parlor, a living room was not his style. He also had a maid, a little asian thing, barely taller than me, who silently took my coat and left.

"Ah, Mindy, It's been so long."

"Heya Max."

I won't describe him either, aside of the fact that he was older than my father. He was sitting at one end of a long table, and a seat for me was ready on the other. I took a seat.

"My condolensces on your loss. Your father was an interesting man. Few would ever go down the roads he went." That was as close to a compliment as he got. Or an insult.

The maid returned with tea on a cart.

"Lemon, three sugars, extra cream?" Max never forgot things. I nodded as my tea was served to me. I must've been eight when I last seen him.

"Now about that debt."

"Yeah, just one thing I have to ask you first..."

I threw the tea cup at him as hard as I could.

It hit the glass between us with a crash. In a second there was a gun at my temple thanks to the maid. My gaze never left Max.

"Were you always this sloppy?"

As the tea ran down the glass I could see his eyebrow raise slightly. "I have taken a slight shift in occupation in my twilight years, from planning to instructing others. Less stress really. Sadly it does mean that other things do slide from time to time."

He gestured to the maid and the handgun vanished as quick as it came.

"For those still in training, could you list off what gave it away, and, could you please take your knife away from my maid's balls?"

The shifting I heard from my right showed that _he_ hadn't noticed.

"Kevlar under the dress when he pressed against my arm to take my coat, his holster is a touch loose for easy draw, but it made noise when he bent to pour the tea, and you," I pointed with the knife, "had your voice coming from speakers below, which doesn't work on shorties like me. It sounds off."

He glanced at the maid. "Now, aside of the knife you clearly didn't notice, you also missed how much C4?"

"Two and a half pounds." I patted my chest. Katie's bra she left at Dave's had plenty of room for it and the wires down to my palm.

"Well, I hope you are taking notes."

 **Oo0oO**

We waited until after the maid had cleaned up and left before continuing.

"I owed your father three debts, this you know, and he used two. One was to get the initial equipment, funds, and training for you to get started, one I will not divulge, leaving one for you."

I nodded.

"Now, I've only kept minor tabs on you, a courtesy really, but that changed recently, you can imagine why."

I nodded again. With the Times Square Brawl it hadn't been exactly a subtle month.

"This, coupled with what information I have managed to acquire leads me to assume that you want assistance in or the neutralizing of, said 'Motherfucker'." Despite this being the first profanity I had ever heard from him, ever, his face gave nothing away.

It was tempting, so very tempting. With him it'd be _so_ easy. But if Chris bit it too soon, then Dave might relax or even give up the Kick-Ass. As much as he was a fucking boil on my ass, I needed Chris alive, at least for now. But how to explain it without giving everything away?

"Tempting, but no. Motherfucker is my business now, and like Daddy, I won't take any shortcuts."

"So prideful, much like your father." Again it could be taken like a compliment or an insult. "If not him, then what? It can't be money, you ought to still have plenty of it left judging on what was recovered after D'Amico the elder made himself perished."

I took a deep breath. This was gonna be a doozy.

"I need your help in seducing Dave."

It was only for a second or two, but the look on his face was priceless. First him swearing, then this. A shame he recovered so quickly.

"Explain."


	2. Chapter 2

**Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 2**

* * *

Before I could even take a breath and elaborate, he held up a hand to stop me. His eyes lost focus on me for almost a minute before he straightened.

"All right, let me make some guesses here. 'Dave', who I can only assume is Kick-Ass," Fuck he was sharp. "due to being the only non-family member who is male and spends a fair amount of time with you. 'Dave' who I vaguely recall is dating a girl at high school."

"Katie." I supplied. He nodded absently.

"And, for the sake of clarity, I can only assume that Dave is _not_ a pedophile?" I bit down on a snarl and nodded, my face feeling tight.

"And you, on the cusp of puberty, are suddenly noticing boys and have decided that _he and only he_ will do?" Even with his voice calm I could hear the sarcasm edging his words.

"You know how Daddy raised me." He nodded. Max had given Daddy a modified routine lifted from some sort of East-German pre-Wall child-soldier program, though one with all the nasty de-humanizing bits scraped off. When I was nine Max had insisted I even look at it, folder after folder. To know what I was being made into.

The closest he could get to an apology.

I didn't have much in the way of regrets. Guns beat dolls any fucking day.

"To paraphrase St Ignatius, ' _Give me a child until she is seven years old, and she is mine for life_.' Still, why Dave?"

"Dave is..." I trailed off, lost in my thoughts. "Dave is the only guy who is both what I am now and still a normal person. Where I'm not normal, and I will probably never want to be normal, he understands this side of me. With him maybe I could be normal, and if not... I could be happy."

"And you want me to help you seduce him, you don't want me to simply eliminate the competition? This Katie I believe you said?"

"Katie and Riley, a girl he works with," He scratched a quick note on pad of paper. I hastened to add, "They aren't bad people."

"I could pin it on the Motherfucker. Quite easily I might add."

"But I would know, and I couldn't hide it away from Dave forever. And even if I could, Dave might just move on to someone else wagging their tits at him." I didn't like how Night-Bitch had been eyeing him before she got whacked. Fame like Dave had would loosen a few panties.

"And you cannot wait? Ah, the Massacre, of course." Max was a fucking scalpel. "Your occupation does have risk."

"And so, seduction." He eyed me up and down. "By a slip of a girl with a body like a barked twig. You ask for much child. I cannot do the impossible."

"Max, you were the Maestro, you orchestrated the ends of _Dons_."

"Those didn't have happy endings." He pointed out. "Only endings." His face was like rock.

"For my debt, I only ask that you try."

He sighed, then gestured for me to leave.

"Come back on Sunday." He said. "I'll answer you then."

And with that, I nodded and left.

 **Oo0oO**

If he said yes, it was probably gonna be pretty fucking monstrous and grueling as all hell. But Daddy had made me tough, I could take it.

I could take anything he threw at me. And for a chance to get Dave at my side, I'd fucking do it standing on my head.


	3. Chapter 3

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 3

* * *

Sunday came, and with it came a distraction. Marcus was being called in for the afternoon, some bullshit story over his paperwork.

Now, Marcus hated paperwork like I hated scum. And like me he was always thorough so he wouldn't have to do it again. The fact that my burner phone buzzed me a message not ten seconds after he left confirmed it.

The Maestro hadn't lost his touch.

 **Oo0oO**

"Hello Mindy." I had kept my knife but hadn't brought the C4 this time. The maid was much improved, only his walk giving him away now, but not much a man can do about that. Max was probably working on it somehow.

His long table in the parlor was gone, as was the glass, that wasn't shocking.

The _comics_ were shocking.

There was a mountain of comics to his left, three stacks, each nearly to my waist. To his right, brown folders, photos peeking out of some, others with reams of papers and receipts. Behind him was a laptop, with a background wallpaper I recognized instantly as what Dave had the last time I visited. In the corner, a small selection of nudie mags, nothing Max would be remotely interested in, as they had two things on the cover he did not go for.

Blondes, and Tits. Max was a man's man after all.

Still, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Fuck, did you go through his trash as well?" He nodded absently, looking in a folder at candid pictures of Riley through her working day. "He uses normal condoms, unlubricated, no ribbing, and standard thickness."

I fought down a blush. It was one thing to see Katie bouncing up on down Dave from a distance, the gory necessities were a little too much TMI.

Perusal of the folder complete, he closed it and looked me square in the eye.

"I have created a scenario." He held up a hand at my indrawn breath.

"There are conditions."

 **Oo0oO**

He waited, watching me for a minute to make sure I had myself under complete control before continuing. "First, you have to go through all three of these folders and then tell me that it's still something you want to do. Second, understand that, like how your father raised you until now, it will not be remotely a normal process. Any normal person, with any normal morals will not think what you are doing is healthy, or even sane. Likely even yourself. And lastly," he paused to gather the folders for me."Well, I'll get to that after."

I took the folders, sat down on a small fold-out chair, and opened the first one.

It was a Philidalphia police record. The man looked normal enough, given what his front and side profiles showed off. No gang tattoos, no scars, looked like an accountant. I turned the page.

He was a convicted pedophile. The folder had choice excerpts of his trial.

She was twelve when he started, fourteen when he was caught.  
His family abandoned him, his friends, his career, _everything_ was ruined.  
He turned evidence of his local pedo-ring in exchange for solitary and no admittance into general population.  
Despite that, he hung himself inside his cell in three months.

The second was much the same, only he didn't have anything to keep him out of general population.

His was a list of medical reports on what they did to him in his short time there.  
The beatings.  
The rapes.  
How all of his teeth were either beaten -or pulled- out of his face.  
How he was a common pass around until he was shivved in the lungs with a sharpened pencil.

The last folder was even worse, he didn't land in a nice prison.

Barb-wire, powdered glass, broken glass rods.  
It took him three weeks to die.

"This is Dave. This is what he will be if you screw up, if you ever get caught. This is what _you_ ," he pointed at me. "will do to him."

I swallowed heavily and closed the folders.

"Lastly, I must ask you. Can you explain why I shouldn't tell you to just buy a vibrator and wait?"

This at least I was expecting. I had the week to think about just that.

"When Daddy died. I was ready take the whole fucking building down with me to make sure I got them all." I whispered. "How could I live afterward, where would I go afterward, what would I do afterword? There wasn't any answer to that. Until _Dave_."

"I'm _Mindy_ again, not Hit-Girl, in a _pink_ bedroom with fucking _dolls_ and I hate every minute of it, but seeing Dave, talking to him, _being_ with him was enough to make me happy. But now..." I took a breath. "I want more of him."

I looked away. "I'd do _anything_ , I'd _be_ anything he wanted, but I can't make him want me because he's a normal and decent guy. And try as I might, I'm not normal and I can't win against that." I pointed at the folders of Katie and Riley.

"And I'm fucking terrified that they might pull him away from me. A hole in a condom, a drunken fling without protection, and no more Kick-Ass."

He gave me a moment to compose myself.

"You are bound and determined then. Very well, let's get you started."


	4. Chapter 4

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 4

* * *

"This," he gestured to the piles around him. "This is Dave."

He pointed to the comics, which I was certain, was a copy of every single one Dave owned.

"Dave Lizewski is a Nerd. A Geek. Unpopular. A comic book fan. A tool for escaping, until he made it real. Just the perfect combination of loneliness and despair." He pointed at a folder. "You would likely not be amazed at how easy it would be for anyone to watch the videos online and check a few local hospital records. They have been taken care of by the way."

"Now, after enduring broken bones, and metal bolts, and grueling training, he is Kick-Ass. He has the most popular girl in school in his bed on some nights, he fights crime on others, he is almost living the dream of a what he believes he can get. Almost."

"Between what I found on his computer, the magazines under his mattress and in his closet, the comics." Gesturing to each in turn. "I have compiled a rough gestalt of what his sexual needs are."

I had a rough estimate myself, but this was fascinating. "Should I be taking notes?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing ever on paper. Your room is being checked." He cut off my indignant squawk with a gesture. "Later."

"Blonde to moderate brunette. Smaller than he is. Medium to high libido. Moderately aggressive during his introverted cycles, submissive on his extroverted ones. Proportions favoring breasts, tapered waist, firm buttocks. Muscled but not a bodybuilder. Hips cannot be too wide." He paused on that one. "The nineties comics skewed him there a bit. Liefield I think, perhaps MacFarlane. Cleanly shaven, also due to comics."

I gathered the blonde and tits, that part wasn't hard. A pity I only had the blonde. And the lack of hair. Max wasn't nearly done though.

"During his conventional urges his tastes are white cotton and front clasps, fairly vanilla in positions, finishing inside, cuddling during his refractory periods, and minimum talking or PDA."

TMI. Very helpful TMI, but still _fucking_ TMI.

"His aggressive urges include thongs, partial clothed coitus, some outdoorsmanship, doggy-style, and, likely he lost his virginity in an alley."

 _TMI_. _**TMI**_. TM _fucking_ I.

"That said, Dave is monogamous, and quite firmly so. Riley's attempts, and there have been many in the week we've been watching, they have all met with failure. Part of this is due to a combination of low-self esteem factors; he simply cannot believe others would be attracted to him unless they knew him in his entirety. This is also something you can use."

I nodded, making a mental note to hate Riley more than I already do.

"In short; Mindy, as you are now, or even for three to four years, there is zero chance of you bedding Dave short of beating him unconscious and raping him."

My blood stopped cold.

"Furthermore even if you had a figure rivaling Riley, you could not get him to cheat on Katie."

I clenched my teeth so hard I was certain I was going to crack something. "And." I managed. "What can I fucking do then?"

He smiled at me, and despite my anger I was fucking terrified. Max shouldn't ever smile.

"Isn't it obvious? I said _Mindy_ can't get _Dave_. I never said anything about _Hit-Girl_ and _Kick-Ass_..."


	5. Chapter 5

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 5

* * *

The maid-man came in with tea for the both of us. His was Russian, black, and unsweetened. I'd make a crack about how that's how he likes his men, but it might actually be true.

Mine was unchanged from before, only this time I'd actually be drinking it.

"You must understand." Explained Max. "You are one person. Mindy IS Hit Girl, with a small slathering of 'normal girl Mindy' for color. Dave is two; Dave Lizewski, and Kick-Ass."

"Marcus is attempting to scrape off the Hit Girl, as he believes that just underneath that is Mindy the normal girl. The Mindy with a dollhouse in a pink room. And, if you really wanted to, you could indeed destroy everything your father fought to steep into your being. Maybe if Dave asked nicely?" He shrugged. "Maybe not."

I just knew he'd had someone inside my room this week. I was going to have tighten things up there.

"Dave however was a normal person, raised in a home with a mother and a father, at least until the stroke, and his love of comics was also fairly normal. But whereas most boys dream of being a superhero and then put such silly notions aside, he decided to try. And then again after he failed, and again after that."

"Dave transitions into Kick-Ass and back. This has it's benefits and it's drawbacks. He can go far, but not as far as if he committed everything he has, like you have. But it also means he see's himself as two different people. Dave is sleeping with Katie, Kick-Ass is not."

He gestured with his cup. "And that my dear, that is where you come in. The steps will be both simple and complex. This is actually a revision of an old scenario I used to take down a Castilians family before you were born. Only," he hastened to clarify "Without the poisonings, and the murder suicide. And you aren't a boy."

"First, we will separate Mindy from Hit Girl, and create a difference even more than what Dave is to Kick-Ass. His body language is different, how he walks is different, how he speaks, his posture, oh I could go on. You will go further and you will use the differences you create to mask the second step. The ambush must be without flaw."

"Next, Hit Girl will become what Kick-Ass, and by extension Dave, desires. While your training thus far has made you an excellent hero, it makes you a terrible object of desire. To be fair," he held up his hands in supplication. "Your father wasn't building you to have sex or be desirable, it was to kill people. There will be adjustments to your diet, your habits, your training, and much, much more. It will hurt in ways I suspect you cannot conceive; to your pride, your sense of shame, your morals, and your body."

Max never exaggerated. Ever. This would hurt, but I was tough, I could take it.

"You will not rush this, nor drag your heels, or hesitate. If he attempts to push beyond my limits you will say no to him."

No jumping the gun. No dawdling. The last one stung, having to say no if Dave got frisky, but I could take it.

"Too much too soon and Dave will end up just another folder." He gestured at the three dead men. "And too slow and he will discover our manipulations, and they will be manipulations, don't you ever think otherwise."

That was an excellent reminder and mood stopper.

"And finally, when Dave lets go of Katie, he will not court you. He will court the Mindy we create. And thus you will have Kick-Ass, and Dave will have his Mindy and Hit-Girl."

I nodded. It'd be a bit weird, but I'd put up with just about anything, even another mask.

At my nod he finished his tea.

"With that, let us get you your training tools."


	6. Chapter 6

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 6

* * *

The maid-man returned with a small duffel bag, one for a girl my size. Once in my hands, he bowed slightly and left as silent as ever.

"This is your initial training equipment." The bag all told didn't weigh more than twenty pounds.

"Inside is materials to put a false bottom in your clothes dresser. I'd suggest the bottom drawer, where the extra weight won't be as telling. It will be your new underwear drawer, not the top one, which is where your old diary will go."

I bristled at the thought of how he knew exactly what I put where, but decided that the gaff was mine. I should have put up better ways of checking. Sloppiness on my part, thinking it was safe. Nothing ever is.

He started at me for a moment, clearly not relishing what was to come, but one didn't get to be as fearsome as Max by being squeamish.

"I think you know what this is." He brandished a small pink stick. A tap of a nub on the bottom got it buzzing. "You will use it sparingly and clean it only moderately well. This will be for Marcus to find to discourage him from looking further in the drawer. He's not certain he found all the guns after all."

Fuuuck this was embarrassing, but I refused to go pink in the face. Not this early. I was tough. I could take this.

"What will primarily be going in you will be this." He lifted out a small pink egg with a thin cord. "And it will be used while you are working on this." That was a lot bigger than the pink stick.

I was passing pink and on the road to red at this point. "If that ain't going in the cunt, where am I 'working on this'? In my ass?"

"Think a bit higher."

In my mouth? I was well into red-faced country. And we weren't stopping there.

"Hit Girl is, when the clothes come off, Mindy in Dave's mind. At least until we move Mindy far enough away in presentation and attitude. The costume is the only thing making this possible. Undressing even slightly exponentially increases the risk that you will break the dissonance and make Dave comprehend what was happening. Getting naked will be totally out of the question, though you might work up to having just the mask and wig eventually, but you must remain clothed for the foreseeable future. That limits what options you have, not that having an eleven year old body isn't already a problem in of itself."

"This you see, if you haven't already caught a glimpse of it in action, is approximately how big Dave gets, and, if you could get even half of it inside you without causing pain to him and sufficient internal damage that a rookie DA with a rape kit couldn't slam-dunk a case against Dave then, I'd be remarkably surprised."

I was torn between embarrassment at the talk, rage that Max might have seen the goods even when I hadn't yet, and shame about how little I had put thought into it. Red is a good color for all three.

"Anal sex is similarly off the table for the aforementioned ease in which it can be detected, although with suitable practice you could take him in his entirety within six months of preparation. The problem lies in that Dave does not appear to enjoy such an act, as an offer from Katie in the last week was turned down."

Logical, rational, calm deduction left one option, fucking embarrassing as it was. God dammit.

"Thus, two of your three main venues of approach not suitable, and I hope you won't be delusional to think your hands alone can compete against the entirety of Katie, leaves a single vector."

He took a sip of his tea. "Fellatio you see, unlike the conventional orifices a one can offer, requires primarily the initiative _and_ action of the person. One cannot lay there like a dead fish, at least not without some serious practice and no gag reflex."

 _Red_? My face was on fucking _fire_.

"It also differs from vaginal and anal sex in that not only does the lady receive no real physical pleasure from the act, but also that it is _offered_ and not _taken_. This is _vitally_ important."

His gaze was steady. "A man can take his pleasure from a woman's holes, but the mouth has teeth, and thus risk. One can share pleasure with another, but one _gives_ pleasure with her mouth. Since Dave will not take any pleasure from you, you will have to give it to him.

QED. Hit Girl will suck Kick-Ass's dick and Hit Girl will like it.

I had an M40 or two stuffed in my face, I knew it. I felt like I was going to _explode_.

"Since the act in itself isn't inherently pleasant for you, which may cause you to hesitate. This would naturally be disastrous for you, so simple Pavlovian conditioning will have to suffice, hence the egg."

I didn't say a word. I _couldn't_. But try as I might there was no point I could contest. Max was right.

Max looked at his watch.

"We shall talk of the rest of this as we are driven to our next destination. We have two appointments today."

"Dare I fucking ask?" He frowned at me slightly.

"Language please. I understand this is embarrassing, but I did warn you that your shame would be taking a beating. And there is no way to talk about this in any other fashion."

The Maid-man came in bearing two coats, and retrieved the now repacked duffel bag.

"As for where we are going, first to get Mindy an identity as separate from Hit Girl as we can, and then to start Hit Girl on her way to looking like a superhero by working on the most common super power I could find in all these comics."


	7. Chapter 7

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 7

* * *

The Maid-man didn't drive us, another man did. The vehicle was a good reminder of how much money and power Max had collected over time. And rare enough that it's make would help identify Max so nothing more will be said. Fucker would probably edit this diary anyways.

After giving the chauffeur the address to drive to, the mirrored glass went up between us and him, and Max's instruction resumed.

Dave, I was told, would not sleep with me because Mindy was a little girl and not touching little girls had been hammered into him since he was four. But he respected Hit Girl, deferred to her judgement, trusted her to cover his back, and while our masks were on he was different and I was as well. Little girls didn't cut people's legs off or shoot criminals, but Dave could handle that because Hit Girl was different from Mindy in his mind. I wasn't a girl to him then, I was this _thing_ called Hit Girl.

Thus if Hit Girl could get her foot in the door... well, her mouth anyways.

Cognitive Dissonance. That was the key. Being Dave and being Kick-Ass, a nice guy selling ice cream versus a masked man beating the shit outta scum, it put stress on the mind. Since he had stopped being Kick-Ass for a while, it was still a bit rough for him to switch from Dave-with-girlfriend to Kick-Ass without a girl. Katie apparently didn't nail him if she could smell the suit on him. Fucking pansy. She probably thought cordite or napalm was a bad smell as well.

Anyways, the trick then was I as Hit Girl would settle in and in the words of Max, 'Reduce his dissonance and providing internal consistency by aversive consequences'.

Or in simple terms, Dave plus Katie fucky-fucky, Kick-Ass plus Hit Girl sucky-sucky.

Katie apparently didn't want to go down on Dave all that much. It was most likely tried Max said, but since it was probably lackluster for Dave and not all that pleasant for Katie they probably went straight for the Cunt's cunt afterwards.

Ergo, mine couldn't be decent, or pretty good, it had to be fucking _spectacular_. Mind Blowing blowing. He had to want to come back, to want more of it. To want more of Hit Girl. _Me_.

When it was phrased that way, it made a hell of a lot more sense. Still fucking embarrassing, but it made sense.

And the sooner I could suck the chrome off a bumper the better, as there was a window of opportunity that would close Max warned.

 **Oo0oO**

Our first stop was for Mindy, and it was _ghastly_. It was a small shop that did work for TV dramas.

"This is a fucking fat-suit!"

It fit perfectly, and I had no idea how Max had gotten my measurements so perfect.

It wasn't really a fat suit like a rubber or silicone mess, it was more like torso padding. Maybe ten pounds total in weight but it made me look at least twenty pounds heavier. It matched my skin tone closely, moderately creepy in it's own right, and, split into two just above the abdomen. That meant trips to the bathroom wouldn't be a stripdown like some heroes outfits had to do. At least I thought they had to.

End result, I was just thicker, flatter, and any definition my hips had was utterly gone. I looked like a comic book nerd girl who drank too much sugary crap.

And it was just one of many. There was one built into a one piece bathing suit, one for long and short sleeves, ones for skirts...

I tried one on, alongside a new pair of medium sized jeans and a medium t-shirt. The effect was... interesting. I could move without much difficulty, but looking at my profile there was no way I could possibly fit into a Hit Girl outfit without looking like a bad cosplayer or using a crowbar.

And as he explained, as time went on, I'd only be getting thicker...

And his listed reasons made sense dammit.

It didn't mean I had to like it.

A single demo suit was tossed in the trunk before we headed off to take care of my better half, Hit Girl.


	8. Chapter 8

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 8

* * *

Our next stop was to a fairly plain building in a mini-mall.

 **Bildhauer Clinic  
** **Orthopedic & Athletic Care**

It was a clean, well maintained building, Even the parking lot had no litter or cigarette butts.

Inside had a grey carpet so pristine it looked like it was landscaped.

We walked past several ladies waiting and reading magizines. They looked so similar to each other they had to be triplets, or at least must've had heavy work done.

"Appointment for Dr. Bildhauer for Max."

The receptionist, also pretty and looking quite similar to some movie star I couldn't place, nodded politely and dialed in.

We didn't have to wait. Apparently we were expected as we were ushered into clinic room 3C.

Dr. Bildhauer was a stern lean fellow, and I was gonna nickname him either Doc Nazi or Mengele. If he ever smiled I think it'd tear his skin. He needed a monocle.

"This is the girl?" His accent wasn't German sadly. It was faint, European, and disapproving of everything. He had a slight rasping wheeze.

And he wasn't exactly thrilled with what he saw.

"Yes." Max was unruffled.

"And you want me to sculpt _this_ , "he waved in my direction. "to those specifications you listed? She has the dedication hm? The discipline? I don't do the impossible."

"Show him." My confusion must have been obvious in my body language as he clarified without really looking at me. "Take off your clothes."

When I didn't move he looked slightly annoyed. "He is a doctor and you know you lack absolutely anything I find appealing. Now, off with your clothes."

Bracing myself I started with my coat.

"Dr. Bildhauer is well known among certain circles as a Sculptor. That is a doctor who is a touch more interested in how medicine can change the body than heal it. Those three outside for example are his work, as is the receptionist."

"Like a plastic surgeon then?" My jacket was tossed on the chair behind me and I was pulling my arms in from my sweater.

"Pah, that kind of work is for the impatient and the _fool_." I could hear his hackles rise at my dig. "Plastic surgery should only be used on the few areas that cannot change, like cartilage and bone. It's like using dynamite and chainsaws on marble where chisels and files are needed. You must have seen how poorly people end up, over time."

Ignoring him, I took a deep breath, grabbed the bottom of my sweater, and pulled it off in one motion. Now topless, I tossed it on my jacket and used the momentum to work on my jeans. The Doc's ranting about Beverly Hills amateur hour chop shops trailed off into silence.

Still not looking at either of them, I kicked my shoes off under the chair and pulled down my jeans. I turned and added them to the growing pile of clothes. My socks I stepped on and pulled off before using my toes to toss them on my shoes.

I still wasn't hearing anything but the Nazi Doc's raspy breathing behind me. Biting my lip, with shaky hands I grabbed the sides of my panties.

Dave better appreciate all the fucking effort I was putting into this. I've killed rooms of people for less.

I pulled them off, counted to ten, and turned to face the Doc in my altogether. _Fuck_ my face was red, and if I caught him staring at my cunt, Max or no Max, I'd kill him with his stethoscope. Or his pen. Or his tongue depressors...

After finding a dozen different items to kill him with in this room (My way of counting to 10) I brought my head up to look the fucker in the face.

I still wish I hadn't.

 **Oo0oO**

I've seen pedo's faces in full perv mode plenty of times. It's how me and Daddy started really. I wasn't nearly good enough to take on whole rooms of armed cunts at once, and, we needed ways to work out the kinks.

So we'd go to the park after tracking down a likely shitbag. Daddy would 'pass out' with a half empty bottle in a brown paper bag on the ground next to his bench, and I would play on the swings in a short skirt until I'd catch the attention of one of them.

Half the fuckers actually used _vans_. I swear to god.

In the two years we did it, we must've brought New York statistically to the lowest it had ever been for child abductions. They'd 'abduct' me and then get their asses tossed into a wood-chipper after I was done with them.

 **Oo0oO**

Point is, I knew pedos, and Doctor Bildhauer was not one. It would have been easier if he was, then I would have just killed him with the x-ray machine in the corner.

The look on his face had such a _hunger_ on it, but it wasn't for itty-bitty-titty, or to plough a field without grass on it. He looked at me like I was a slab of meat, rather, a block of marble.

Max's voice practically slithered from behind me. "You wanted someone with _discipline_ , yes? _Determination_ to hold a course? This," His hand was on my shoulder. "This is the body of a person already committed to being a super hero. This is Hit Girl and, " he noticed how I tensed up. "Naturally, your discretion, exemplary as it has been, shall be held even higher. For if she doesn't gut you and leave you dying slowly, I will."

The threats didn't phase the Doc in the least, so lost was he in his throes.

"I'll do it." He whispered. "I'll sculpt you your superhero."

"Then let us get started without delay. There's work to be done."

Despite the fact I could easily kill him, kill the both of them, I was still scared shitless.

 **Oo0oO**

An hour later we were done.

The ride home was quiet, mostly because I wasn't saying anything and Max wasn't interested in absent conversation.

After three vials of blood were drawn, some hair samples taken, a dozen x-rays snapped, then came the photos. Hundreds of photos of every part of me from my scalp to my feet. _Everything._

And I had an appointment to go back to him in a week, and then he'd really get started on me.


	9. Chapter 9

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 9

* * *

After Max dropped me off, I took the duffel bag and fat suit to my room.

The suit was put in the closet on a hook, and the contents of the duffel bag was spread all over the bed.

I was now the proud owner of:

\- 1 little pink vibrating dildo. A bit thicker than my finger.  
\- 1 big dildo, apparently "Dave" sized.  
\- 1 vibrating egg with corded remote.  
\- 2 books, full color, which seemed to be like a how-to for oral. A sticky note on the books suggest I watch videos after going through them. I shouldn't have problems finding them.  
\- 1 false bottom for my dresser drawer.  
\- 1 small laptop, on which this second diary is being typed onto.  
\- 1 USB stick.  
\- 1 wireless stick for the laptop.  
\- 1 bug scanner with an earpiece on a cable. I vaguely recalled Daddy using one in his more paranoid moods.  
\- 1 little device I had no idea what it did.

The sticky note on the laptop offered a 16 digit random password which I immediately changed after logging in. It was a little Linux thing, and it booted onto a desktop. I opened the Read Me First text file.

I thought I was ready for anything.

Marcus had put a bug in my room. It wasn't hooked to the house currents, so it was relatively recent and reacted to sound. The bug scanner Max provided found it in short order.

My fucking teddy bear. It must have been after Marcus found the gun.

Marcus had also apparently got my computer bugged as well. A piece of software, practically malware, was made to hook on and record stuff with the web camera. Apparently it was used to catch pedos by having recorded and time-stamped evidence of both sides of the feed. If a kid dropped trou, the watcher got caught.

The question was why this shit was on my machine and in my room. What was Marcus hoping to catch?

Max predictably had the answer.

 _Dave_. Marcus was worried that Dave was trying to get into my pants. If it weren't for the bug in the room I'dve bust a gut laughing.

Oh how I _wish_!

Apparently Marcus had bugged Dave's room to see if he could catch extra information about criminals and hotspots without having to explain to his fellow cops where _exactly_ it was coming from. And apparently the chief argument Katie had been having with Dave as of late was about me and how much time he was spending alone with me, on rooftops and alleyways, and no witnesses.

And so that lead to my room with bugs.

Naturally, Max pointed out, this could be used to further our advantage. Something they themselves had proven to be false was much harder to bring up again. With a bit of effort, it'd be the perfect smoke screen.

As for the computer, fixing that would be easy. All I'd need to do is gain an interest in a boy band.

That made much more sense in my head. Okay, I was going to start liking a particular boy band, get a poster and everything, and I'd be going to a fake website which'd get me further infected with malware. The USB stick would clean my computer of both, and if it somehow snuck back on, I'd rinse and repeat.

The false bottom took less than 15 minutes to install. I took all my panties from the top drawer, where it made sense for them to be, and covered it completely. Then I tossed the pink vibrator on top and closed the drawer. On opening it, I smiled. Have fun with this landmine _Marcus_.

The bear was tossed face down on a spare duvet in my closet, and I threw a couple bits of my summer wear on top. Assuming the model was the same as the standard ones the cops used, that should cover everything up to shouting. A little music would make it even harder for him to get anything.

As for the selected boy band, well, it wasn't Bieber, _thank fuck_. Plus the drummer looked a little like Dave. Their music was still pretty shitty.

One cleaned computer later, I was back on the laptop. It was apparently encrypted up the nuts and would use a prepaid wireless cellular stick to chat with Max. We'd only meet once every month or two at best but he'd send snippits of intel for me to go over.

The last little device had a serial number that matched a pdf on the desktop. This was a motion sensor and several had apparently been wired into the houses power supply already and hidden.

One was hooked in where Marcus plugged his car in during the colder New York winters. That one would go off the second a car parked in the driveway, giving me a minute, maybe two. The second was at the base of the stairs, or thirty second if no one was running. And the last was at the top a little ways towards my door. Since my end had the spare bedroom, the linen closet, and my own, anyone taking a left towards me gave me five seconds warning to hide my shit.

The little box buzzed like a beeper, and it was already hooked to the laptop to go off with with an audible chirp if the laptop was active. Taking both and trotting up and down the stairs, I had a pretty good estimate for how much time I had. Good enough to tuck things under pillows and all that.

I sent an email to Dave on my regular computer, to come by to talk about a few things after dinner. Marcus called the house shortly thereafter, letting me know he was on his way and bringing takeout.

With a half hour to kill, I started tossed everything into the hidden drawer, but I stopped at the Dave sized Dildo.

I had to know.

Dropping trou, I leaned back on the bed on my elbows and spread my legs. I laid it on top of my belly, like some flesh colored missile.

Now, if Dave were to go 'balls deep' as the cool kids say, he would be poking me...

...Past my belly button.

God _Dammit_.

I tossed it in the drawer and put my clothes back on.

I cracked open the first book and started reading about the fine old art of sucking dick.


	10. Chapter 10

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 10

* * *

Dave came by after we had eaten and snagged a couple of eggrolls. Vile _lies_ those, I never touch the things. Probably as much egg in there as cat food.

He almost launched said eggroll one out of his nose when he saw me tromping downstairs in my new fat suit and "Medium" clothes.

Fuck you Dave, and fuck you Marcus, laughing at me.

I explained, as they snickered at me, that this was to protect my identity. They were still chuckling while I took them up into my room (Marcus was discretely looking for the bear), booted up my computer, then ran the image comparison software Max had left on the USB Stick for me.

They stopped laughing when a "random" picture of me and a picture of Hit Girl in full costume pinged an 87% match, but had a 30% and 14% in front and side view with the fat suit on.

 **Oo0oO**

I explained how the Night-Bitch had been whacked in her home thanks to social media, and the fact that she was stupid enough to post photos of herself with most of her tits out. Me in the fat suit was a small price to pay to not have the Motherfucker blow up my school.

Then they got all serious with me, Dave even wondering if he needed to get a fat suit as well. I assured him that thanks to his costume covering nearly all of his body, and the fact that he was within the margins of average height and weight, too many people would ping in the 60's and 70's. He just had to avoid being recording speaking as Dave anywhere. Much easier.

Me, since I was short, had half my face exposed, and was really fucking fit for an 11 year old, had it a bit harder. 'Mindy', I declared as if it were my own idea, was going to have to fade into obscurity. I'd be missing gym class (it wasn't even a warm-up really) with a doctor's note, I wasn't going to go into any school clubs, and I wasn't going to ever change in public except inside bathrooms or or closed booths. And I'd be getting several more fat suits made.

Marcus looked a bit sad for some reason, but I assured him I'd still be kicking ass with Kick-Ass, and heading to the comic shop to hang out with friends. I'd hang out with Jessi and Angela, just not participating in sleep overs.

Then I dropped nuke number two, Little Boy instead of Fat Man. Speaking about doctors, I was going to see one. One that Daddy used to take me to routinely but one I hadn't been to since he died.

Out came the card.

 **Bildhauer Clinic**  
 **Orthopedic & Athletic Care**

Marcus would be bringing me there for next Saturday for a checkup. Once there, I'd be asking for one for Dave. Bildhauer didn't do guys as far as I knew but he'd have a similarly discrete friend.

 **Oo0oO**

That night while reading from the first book the little laptop beeped. I had mail from Max.

It was an audio feed from Dave's room. I wasn't surprised, as if Max was going to go to all the trouble of collecting Dave's trash without leaving a couple bugs. It was probably a reflex for him.

I'd have to order two or three other bug detectors in case Max used any on me that were designed not to be detected by the one he gave me.

As for the audio, apparently after 'cuddling', Dave let Katie know about his needing to get a medical checkup. Dopey bitch wanted him to reschedule cause she wanted to go to a movie with him.

Dave was tempted. I can tell from how he hesitated, she was probably waving her tits in his face or stroking his tunk or something, but he saw reason and decided to go with me anyways.

That earned him an earfull from Katie. Twenty long minutes of it.

I snarled and reached for the dildo I had dubbed Little Dave.

Just you wait you bitch, the cavalry was coming.


	11. Chapter 11

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 11

* * *

 _Fuuuuck_ what a long week.

Fatigue from the long hours of school and crimefighting, the stakeouts, it was all getting to me. I don't know how Dave did all of it AND a job to boot.

Me, I was cutting corners everywhere I could. The note from my Nazi-Doc got me out of gym class, and I used it to grab quick naps in the library instead. That and with me aiming to fade into the background meant I was wearing the fat-suit with extra baggy sweats, and I was planning on slowly settling to my new "medium" jeans to drive the point home. Mindy wasn't standing out, at least not physically. Intellectually maybe.

While Katie had been avoiding me, we did run into each other one time. Her eyes took me and the fat-suit in, the grey sweats I was wearing, and her eyes just slid off me. As the pretty and popular girl in her school, she was used to ignoring the dumpy and plainer folk, and I was firmly sitting in that camp now. She even let up on Dave for a few days, as if she was unable to come to grips that I was a threat to her, looking as I was.

Max in our online chats noted that it would only last until she got another look at Hit Girl from the photos.

As for 'practice', well, it was slow going. Thanks to the books and the cesspool that is the internet, I am now fairly confident I can get a dick in my mouth without drawing blood or scraping a layer of skin off. I haven't made much progress once it's in there though. The egg helped a bunch actually. Shoved just inside and set to low, it made passing the time bobbing up and down on the dong a bit more bearable.

Rereading that, had you said even a month ago that I, Mindy, would be spending my free time jabbing a rubber dick into my face, I'dve laughed at you before ripping your intestines out with a fork. Then set you on fire.

What a fucking world.

Side note. Thank **FUCK** for the motion sensors, that needs to be both bolded and underlined. I swear it saved me at least twice this week from being caught in horribly embarking situations. I simply would die of shame, but only after I murdered all witnesses and burnt the place to the ground. Then and only then would I die.

I was spending much of my free time in bed 'resting' before the nights out with Dave, and sometimes, with that egg thrumming away, I could get so lost in the practice. Marcus came to check on me once while I was half-naked on top of the covers sucking away. Since he came from his room across the hall it meant I only had a few precious seconds warning to jump under the covers, stuff the dildo under my pillow, and pretend to be sleeping.

Though in my hasty actions I had neglected the egg, which was left in me and still on, with the cord dangling from my cunt where I couldn't reach it under the covers. So there I was, 'sleeping', egg quietly buzzing, trying not to wriggle as Marcus watched me 'sleep' from the doorway with that sad look he sometimes got when he thought I wasn't looking.

Super. _Fucking_. _**Awkward**_.

I have no better words to describe it than that.

And it wasn't as bad as the other one. I will not be putting that on record EVER. All I will say is I'm glad Dave bought the 'it's perfume' line I managed to say.

Tomorrow we see the Mengele. This should be interesting.


	12. Chapter 12

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 12

* * *

The Nazi-Doc's building was as pristine as ever, Dave and Marcus were impressed, I guess they were expecting some sleazy back-alley doc with scalpels sitting in whiskey.

We had all gone in Marcus's car, and it was a pretty awkward ride. I think Marcus was upset that he didn't think about taking me to a doctor first, and Dave was coming to terms with the idea that maintenance would be required if he was planning on doing this long term, even for one as amazing as I.

Inside was unchanged, though instead of the triplets, there were several athletic looking ladies waiting today. It wasn't just beauty he did after all, if you wanted a body that could Olympically compete, he apparently had tricks there to. Something I might want to investigate in the years to come.

The receptionist was still the same, though her lips were looking somewhat puffier than I recall. After ten minutes, Dr. Bildhauer came out to see us.

" _Mindy_ , always a pleasure. I take it this is Marcus and Dave?" His accent was much thicker now. I nodded as he turned and ushered us into his office. Inside he wasted no time.

"My condolences, your father was quite a character." It stung a bit, hearing that. Even if as far as I knew he had never met Daddy and was lying through his teeth. I nodded slowly as he turned to Marcus.

"I am Doctor Sochař Bildhauer. I am assuming that since you are here that you are aware of Mindy's extracurricular activities." He didn't wait for Marcus to nod, barreling on. "Suffice to say, Mr. Macready was very thorough in his efforts to ensure the long term health of his daughter, and, now that you have returned to me Mindy, I shall continue my efforts to do so."

I could tell that Marcus was taking it as a slight against himself, but he held quiet and let the doctor rattle on. A cop's habit of letting someone hang themselves on their own words.

"As before, I will not be charging you Mindy, I owe you too much for that." Bullshit, total bullshit. But _damn_ was it coming from his lips like wine. "However, my pharmacist does need to eat, and thus any medications, pills, or creams will be at cost." Max was going to cover a part of it and I would cover the rest. Marcus would be asked to pay for something here and there so he'd feel better about this.

"Like always then." I replied, glad that Max had given me a lot of bullshit to work with.

"As for you Dave Lizewski," Dave stiffened as he hadn't given his last name. The Doc passed him a large folder. "After the phone call with Mindy, and knowing who she is, I spent a little time checking up on her antics. It was incredibly easy to look up the videos of when Kick-Ass got started, find the date, and falsify a request for a copy of your records." Dave was looking pretty pale as the doc went on.

"These," he gestured to the pile he had handed Dave, "are the originals, and all digital records have been wiped clean. It wouldn't do for you to be the weak link that puts Mindy at risk." Max had set this up incredibly well, the evil fuck.

Both Dave and Marcus were really gonna have to take this whole 'secret identity' much more seriously now too. Good.

"I will not be able to help you Dave." He intoned solemnly. "It's all the metal you see, the most I typically see is the odd titanium kneecap. However, I do know of someone who deals with both athletes and car accident rehabilitation..."

In short order I was shooed back into good ol' room 3C and the guys were back in the waiting room to look at magazines. I was to get a full assessment and some x-rays and blood drawn.

Since that actually happened last week, what happened instead was a lotta work on my chest.

First order of business, the needles, fucking yay. Three in each armpit, with me not having enough time for a topical anesthetic to kick in. Next week I ought to have time to get the skin numbed, thank fuck.

I barely flinched. Daddy had made me tough. I could take it.

Next the pills, and there were a lot of them. Different colors, different sizes, some with food, some in the morning, some before I sleep. All in a plastic pill container stuffed with a little bit of cotton so they wouldn't rattle on the way home. That went into my inner coat pocket that normally held my emergency gun. It was empty this time in anticipation of this pickup.

I was given two weeks worth and I had to come back in a week to give more blood to measure how effective they were. Then I'd get a weekly batch while the results from my blood, hair, and piss would change next weeks doses. It was an art, he explained, on how to adjust the dosages and change things as the body absorbed, adapted, and grew tolerant of certain things. A copy of the instructions would be sent to Max, who would send them to me.

Next came the jars of goop. Creams, ointments, salves, whatever the fuck the medical term for them, goop was goop, and I'd be slathering it on my nonexistent chest.

It was easier this time to take my shirt off, and, I found it oddly not difficult to resist the urge to break every bone in his goddamn hands as he professionally groped me.

Maybe it was his serious tone as he explained that I had to wear gloves every time I applied anything from the Blue Jar, as he was now, to washing anywhere it wasn't supposed to go pretty much immediately, to where exactly on me it went, to how hard I was to rub it in...

Near the end of the slathering my nipples perked up in his hands. That was new, and I listened with half an ear as he explained that it was normal and a side effect of the creams and please don't stab him with his fucking pen...

I wasn't going to, not with Dave and Marcus nearby anyways, but it felt better to keep him on the defensive. I didn't want him getting any ideas with those hands.

Finally came the damages. How much was this going to cost. He was in fact doing it pro-bono, partly for the challenge and partly for a favor he owed Max. Even then when I asked him how much a month of shots, pills, and goop, would cost, he rattled off a number that almost turned my hair white with shock. The pills alone could buy a couple'a AR-15's every week, the shots had to be a grand or two an armpit, and what the fuck was in the goop, liquid cocaine?

And Max was covering more than half of this. Fucking _hell_. I was gonna have to be a bit nicer to him, in case he decided to change his mind and make me pay for all of it.

I had millions, but still, this was gonna ding my half but good.


	13. Chapter 13

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 13

* * *

Marcus had me and Dave wait in the car as he had a quick final chat with the Doc-Nazi. He said it was to get the address of where to take Dave, but I knew better. He was going to do what cops did to people they weren't trusting yet; get info and check it for mistakes.

Now I wasn't worried, Max had already lined up what was going to be said. It was how Doc-Nazi had the folder of Dave's records, and the hints about owing me and Daddy for something in the past.

Marcus came out a few minutes later, a card in his hands. As we took off, he started asking me questions about Doc-Nazi, just as expected. I thought he was going over it to look for lies on the Doc's part, but it took me a few minutes before I realized Marcus was getting things wrong on purpose. Simple things the Doc would never screw up on.

Marcus was trying to trip _me_ up. Why?

I filed it away for later and kept my story solid. After a bit he gave up and drove on in silence. A quick glance over to Dave showed that he had caught it as well.

 **Oo0oO**

We drove to the block next over to see the pharmacist. It was a specialized one, especially considering all the traffic the Doc would send his way. The Doc had called ahead and the goop, henceforth dubbed The Green Jar, was waiting for us.

Now I knew it was going to be costly, but the look on Dave and Marcus's faces was awesome. I'm glad I got it out of my system back at the clinic.

"Holy fucking sacred mother of god!" I didn't know Marcus could hit a note that high. Don't they have to cut your balls off?

The bemused pharmacist watched the two older guys gasp and wheeze while the little girl marched up and paid in cash, snatched the jar, and marched out.

Back in the car, Marcus tried pushing bills on me. I'd only accept half, stating that Daddy had left me enough money to last a while.

Dave was more interested in what the goop did. I kept it vague, stating that I'd be slathering it on my back and sleeping on a towel for a week, then a combination of physio and a couplea chiropractor sessions should adjust it so the nerve wouldn't be pinched. The chiropractor alone would temporarily deal with the issue but the cream and some physio should keep it that way.

And it was almost true, only it wasn't my back it was going on.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave's doc was _awesome_. He had a beard like a cross of a Hell's Angel biker and Santa Claus. Plus, everybody in the waiting room looked like they could pull Dave's head off like a pen cap. He was nice though, and he even gave me a Coke to drink while I waited next to all the burly guys whose arms alone probably weighed more than me.

The fact that he tore the head off the glass bottle like you would twist a plastic cap off was cool beyond words. There wasn't even any sharp ends on the bottle. Dave thought so too, and it certainly made sure Marcus didn't feel like grilling him. Hell, call it a compliment that I would much prefer to shoot the Biker-Doc from the distance given a choice. Few people can earn that accolade. Fewer still with a stethoscope around their neck, which unlike Nazi-Doc was not an item I could kill him with. There was like six things in the whole building tops.

Dave's checkup and assessment took longer than mine, but then it was an actual full checkup and not what I had. Biker-Doc was, like Nazi-Doc, professional and discrete. And Dave would get help for aches and pains he literally couldn't feel. He also didn't cost nearly as much.

We all went home in better spirits. Marcus wasn't pushing on certain topics, and I was happy to let them lie. We could always argue about them later.

 **Oo0oO**

We finished off the leftover Chinese and sent Marcus volunteered to drive Dave home. I'm not sure if he wanted to grill Dave privately, or apologise for digging for intel. I'd email Dave later and find out.

On reaching my door I froze and squinted at the handle. A hair was out of place. One of my blonde ones, a classic trick really. It was gone and in it's place... a purple one from my wig.

Cute.

Fuckers missed the pencil lead though, I'd be sure to tell Max that tonight.

Inside I had some new items on my nightstand. Several of the boy band's CD's and a new poster on the wall of the Drummer. Fuck you Max, you cheeky cunt.

Inside the false bottom was the Blue Jar, a box of disposable gloves, some cotton strips of fabric with some safety pins, and a small pile of printouts with instructions for the goop and pills.

Tonight was gonna blow, and not in a practice sort of way.


	14. Chapter 14

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 14

* * *

As the day wound down to a close I got started on what was going to be a long and annoying routine.

First a dozen different pills, which I took with water from the bathroom sink. If I was lucky I'd be able to find out what maybe a third of them did online.

Next came the aftermath of the Blue Jar. I could either wash it off with water, or, as the Doc said, I could peel the thin dried coating off like candle wax on skin. That meant I could keep the number of extra showers I needed to take down to a minimum.

Tonight I peeled it as I didn't want to have a shower. The peeling was an interesting sensation, one I'd probably get tired of quickly enough, but best enjoy it while I could. The leftover film went down the sink and I washed my hands to be safe.

Tossing my sweater into the hamper for washing, I wrapped a towel around me and brought a second one with me back to my bedroom. After locking my door, I checked my laptop for updates from Max. There were two: One for his plan for dealing with the bugged bear on Monday which was hilarious, and the other... was a warning about how tomorrow was not going to be a good day for me.

Apparently since I was going from zero to full throttle with my treatment instead of the typical months of buildup, it was gonna be a pretty rough start that would get better over time.

But I was tough, I could handle it.

I snapped on some fresh gloves and cracked open the Green Jar. Unlike the blue this one had a fairly strong smell. Medicine-y was the word. Fuck you spell check it is so a word!

Anyway with the gloves on it only took two small fingerfulls to coat my whole chest. Rubbing it in like the Doc did, I found my nipples were responding like they did in room 3C.

Looks like the Doc was right. Also, it seems like they work together as a team. Learn something new every day.

I laid a towel down for my back to lay on, threw on a loose shirt, and draped the other towel over my torso.

No practice tonight, I figure I'll need the energy for tomorrow.


	15. Chapter 15

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 15

* * *

Max didn't exaggerate, I felt like shit. Hammered shit. _Re-fried_ hammered shit.

Fuuuuuu~~~~~~~~~~~~ck.

I had slept in and missed my morning exercise. I reached over to my burner phone, sent an apology to Dave, and staggered over to the bathroom.

One hot shower and a mitt-full of pills later, I was strapping on fresh gloves and gooping up my chest from the Blue Jar. Nipples a sproing-sproing, but my whole chest felt like it had been stomped on and kicked by a man with heavy boots. Steel toes.

The dirty towels I chucked into the hamper. Doing my extra laundry was just a small shit nugget on the looming mountain.

I tried one of the thick cotton cloth bands. I could either wrap it around me and hook it together in the back like a bra, or, like I was going to today, hook it in the front. It hurt less. In theory it was to keep the goop from touching the fat suits or my clothes.

What was once a five minute morning routine took almost forty-five minutes. Practice would speed it up, but I'd still have to be up just a little bit earlier. Yay.

A quick damage report.

\- Neck. Swollen glands in the throat. Hurts to turn my head a bit.  
\- Armpits. Swollen there too, three guesses as to why.  
\- Chest. Moderately bootfucked.  
\- Guts. Lightly battered except for about an inch below my belly-button. There, tender as all fucking hell. Anyone pokes me there dies _screaming_.

Throwing a loose shirt and shorts on, I tromped down the stairs with all the grace I felt. I.E. None. Late as I was, I beat Marcus by a good half-hour, which was strange.

I was halfway through eating some plain dry toast so I could take the pills that needed food when Marcus came down. While I looked bad, he looked even worse. What the fuck?

Apparently the leftover Chinese food didn't sit well with him, particularly the egg rolls. Now I never touch the things on sheer principle, but otherwise from the chemically obvious I was fine and I had eaten bits of everything else.

That only left one final question. I pondered it as I tossed more bread into the toaster.

How did Max know I didn't eat egg rolls?


	16. Chapter 16

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 16

* * *

We ate toast in comparable misery, me with all the medical crap in my system, him with whatever was in his.

Almost in unison we marched upstairs, though I let him know I was gonna try going for a walk, see if fresh air would help.

Fresh air and some answers.

Since Marcus was sick and, after calling Dave twice to get him to pick up, confirming it got Dave as well, I went hunting for a small gun. Someone had dosed the egg rolls, and they knew I didn't eat them. That meant looking through the kitchen window. It had to be visual, as it's a pain in the ass to figure out who is chewing what over headphones.

That didn't leave much in the way of places you could hide. And of the four houses that could look in, only one had a 'For Rent' sign.

I circled the block casually before hitting the back alley. While I couldn't hop the fence in my state, but I was still friggin quiet in my approach.

Extension cord from a neighbors garage leading into the house via an open window. Back door unlocked.

Sloppy. Really sloppy.

Why just anyone could walk in.

Inside was quiet beyond an empty house. This was a house with no power and no water. Nothing whirred, clicked or dripped. My phone made an adequate flashlight as I prowled without making a sound.

There were no traps, no obvious warnings, just a quick break in and stake out gig.

They weren't in, but they would be back, as I doubt Max would eat the cost of all the surveillance equipment I saw in the living room. Probably gone to a 7/11 to take a shit. You never ever took a crap in a house with no running water, cause you'd have to baste in the smell until you finished the stakeout.

In the kitchen was an identical order of the Chinese food we ordered, down to the egg rolls no less. Fuck, those probably were our egg rolls come to think of it.

Next to the food was several small clear vials, one half empty. The stomach fucker, probably some sort of derivative or precursor to the sick sticks I was hearing rumors about.

Feeling cruel, I took the vials and dosed the rest of the Chinese food. Then I settled in the dark corner of the living room, away from the gash of light from the open curtains.

I didn't have to wait long.

I could hear a thunk in the kitchen which sounded like a small flat of water bottles being dropped onto the counter.

A few minutes later a dark shape came in and dropped a fried rice box along side a plastic bottle of water next to the camera and listening equipment.

Fucker didn't even check his corners, or have anything on the doors like I did...

I waited until he had a few mouthfuls before I turned on the phones flashlight mode and chambered a round in my gun.

"Hiya Cunt." Not my most eloquent, but I was suffering here goddammit!

He froze and slowly turned to face me, hands up in surrender. Asian, a little taller than me, though not in a dress this time. Max's Maid-man, sans the maid.

Satisfied I'd be able to drop him even in my current state, I turned off the light and started dialing Max.

"Hey Max, Mindy here... Oh I've been better. Listen, you know how you had my food poisoned just now? Yeah, have the common courtesy to _fucking_ warn me next time. Had I finally given in to peer pressure and nibbled on an egg roll I'd be super sick instead of regular sick, and I probably would have blown your maids head off instead of just poisoning his rice."

The Maid-man, whose name I still did not know, froze and looked down at his rice. I shrugged and gave him a smile.

"Just saying Max, a little warning would be nice." And I hung up.

As I turned to leave I felt a little bad for the guy. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry, but I'll let you know that Marcus could keep dry toast down."

He shrugged and went back to eating it. Between mouthfuls he spoke to me for the first time ever.

"Thank you, but I've been immune to this one for years."


	17. Chapter 17

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 17

* * *

Dave was sick, Marcus was sick, and I felt like crap, so the rest of Sunday was spent mostly in bed.

Separate beds, mind you.

I had energy, just everything ached. So I read more of those books Max gave me, then watched a bit of 'study material' quietly. Like much of the world, 90-odd percent was crap, fake, or exaggerated to the extreme.

Still, I did find some useful bits in some of what I saw, and anything past 'shove it in your face' could only expand one's repertoire.

My watchings were interrupted by my regular phone buzzing. Someone was trying to break in through a window.

They'd given me a week and shown me how damn useful the motion sensors were. So I'd gotten a few more...

I reached for my pistol as the burner phone also sent me a message.

 **Delivery. Do not stab.**

How nice, Max was responding to constructive criticism.

I still took the pistol though, it didn't say 'do not shoot' after all.

 **Oo0oO**

It was the Maid-man and he was already quietly putting groceries away. I didn't know how long it'd take the gut-fucking medicine to take effect, but he was moving without difficulty.

He must have heard me coming as he turned to hand me a binder before resuming placing cans without saying a word.

My new diet plan, thanks in part from Max and Mengele.

Hmm, That was quite a bit of calories. And fats. Were they trying to make me match the fat suit?

The next few pages showed lots of diagrams and used complicated medical terms to state a really simple message.

Tits needed fat, and I had very little anywhere. Change this.

The small collection of cans tucked in the corner of the pantry were to start me off, and then I'd either have to add them to the groceries list later, or risk having the little Asian guy sneak in and drop off more. Speaking of which...

I rattled off the burner phone's number. "This month's burner. Use it to knock."

He nodded and turned to leave.

 **Oo0oO**

Back upstairs in my room, I tried getting some practice in. Using the egg was right out, everything ached everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Thinking about Dave, pretending it was him, it did help a little, but I gave up eventually.

Lunch, followed by more pills and I had a nap. Dinner was much the same, though Marcus did shuffle down to join me. After dinner I watched a bit of television, had a shower, gooped up with the Green Jar, more pills, grabbed fresh towels, and decided to call it an early night.

Not a good day. Understatement of the fucking century Max.


	18. Chapter 18

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 18

* * *

Monday morning crawled in and with it the routine.

Shower, Blue Jar goop, pills, pills, and more pills.

I still ached all over, but it was much less than yesterday. I still wouldn't want to brawl feeling like this, but I'm certain I could hold my own.

Apparently, while I felt I could manage, I really didn't look like it. Marcus, who himself felt a lot better than I did, took one look at me and declared I was staying home one more day.

On the one hand, it felt like I was being a weakling, letting a little bit of aches and pains keep me from school. On the other hand, I'm fairly certain that kids were supposed to want to skip school. I wasn't sure exactly, and TV hadn't clarified matters much.

What the hell, I'd take one more day.

Breakfast was oatmeal with an extra added feature; evaporated milk, about a third of a can. Marcus looked at it for a minute before shrugging. I _did_ pull it out of the bottom of his pantry after all. Not my fault he can't remember what's there.

On it's own, oatmeal is fine, however the evaporated milk made it almost greasy, and I was not a fan of it. Still, I shoveled it in. Like Rome, tits were not built in a day. And I'd acquire a taste for dog biscuits and haggis if it meant getting Dave.

After Marcus left I shoved in the after food pills and got ready to start exercising.

First things first though, that fucking bugged bear.

Max's plan was _evil_. I dragged it out of the closet, tossed it on my bed, right next to my computer speakers. On went the first disc of that boy band. On loop.

Oops.

My heart bleeds purple piss for whomever had to listen to it until the batteries died.

Now to exercise.

 **Oo0oO**

Like I thought, I could do it all, even if I was sore and puffy and feeling bloated from the heavy breakfast, so I felt a bit better about myself. The additions to my exercise routine were primarily for the back muscles, something I really ought to have been adding more to already in hindsight. It's not that I didn't have a decent back already, but if I was going to be not killing scum and just maiming and beating the shit out of them with Dave, then I'd have to be a bit more substantial there to keep them from getting back up.

You'd think I'd be doing chest spreads or something, but nope.

Lunch was canned tuna fish, hard boiled eggs, and a coupla glasses of milk. And followed by, you guessed it, pills.

The afternoon was mostly spent on practice. _After_ the bear went back into the closet, _and_ buried under the clothes. No free show for the fucker with the headphones.

I grabbed the Little Dave. If this was really how big Dave was, then it was all going in.

Cram time!

 **Oo0oO**

Well, that was a _terrible_ idea. Nearly threw up lunch and an expensive pile of pills.

Apparently just shoving it in and toughing it out doesn't work. How the fuck was I supposed to know that? It's not like there's a fucking seminar on this shit!

I need to check up on this.

 **Oo0oO**

Thank you internet, you fucking cesspit of things you really don't want to have to know.

Apparently, desensitization can be accomplished much faster with a toothbrush, especially an electric one.

Now Marcus had one, he won it at some stupid christmas gift sharing thing last December. He tried it once, didn't like it, and tossed it back into the box.

Now it serves a higher purpose, saving Dave from Katie.

Bottoms up!

 **Oo0oO**

There is an old saying, 'No pain, no gain'. Well I have certainly been gaining every fucking inch in I can take in my mouth.

You start brushing your teeth, then your tongue, then the back of your tongue which is where the heaves start with me. Then a little bit _further_...

With the electric buzzing massaging things back there, the urge to heave _slowly_ , and I emphasize the _slowly_ part, _slowly_ starts to be bearable, then pass.

And then you push a little bit _further_.

Four and a half hours later, I can take the dong, pop the head in, and smoothly push it till it hits the dangly bit at the back there. No heaves, no choking, steady as she goes. Looking at the rest of it a bit cross-eyed, I measured what was sticking out with my fingers.

About two inches to go. Fucking Dave, I'm pretty sure I don't have a small head, so the blame is all on you.

 **Oo0oO**

Marcus surprised me when he came in after work. He brought some liver and fried it up, despite the fact that I know he doesn't care for it.

As the smell filled the kitchen I was struck with emotions. Maybe it was all the chemicals, but I was nearly tearing up there. It didn't make up for the bear, but it was a hell of a start.

He plated the whole thing and before he was going to cut it he excused himself and went off to wash his hands.

Then the fucker came back with greasy brown bag and whipped out a couple of burgers for himself.

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing.

I still ate the whole thing. Daddy would claw himself out of hell to deck me if I left any liver untouched.

I went to bed happily with a full belly, a slightly sore throat, and a gooped chest.

And Pills. Musn't forget those.


	19. Chapter 19

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 19

* * *

Off to school I go!

 _After_ the shower to get the Green Jar goop off, _and_ putting the Blue Jar goop on, _and_ then the cloth band to keep the fat suit clean, _and_ then the pills, _and_ then said the fat suit. Put on the bigger clothes, eat breakfast, and more pills of course. And _finally_ pack my lunch alongside the extra pills.

See! Easy.

... _Fuck_.

 **Oo0oO**

School was mercifully uneventful, though I did manage to get to spend some time with Jessi and Angela. Jessi was looking at my grey baggy clothes with such longing it was strange. Angela had taken my wardrobe change as some sort of rebellion against the Man, much like the swearing, and violence...

Honestly, who went through a phase that involved serious violence? If there really was such a thing, sign me up.

Aside of that, I kept to myself and tried my best not to be noticed.

 **Oo0oO**

After school I met up with Dave. From our 4 days on the street, 2 days training, one day slacking schedule, we had agreed that this week the Monday would be our slack day. We'd train today, patrol until Saturday, then train after seeing our respective Doc's. We'd probably do a toss up on which day, Sunday or Monday we'd do the last bit of patrol.

I did warn him that we would have to mix it up after a couple weeks. Can't let the Cunts think that every Sunday was gonna be a day where we might not appear after all. Plus it'd limit the Motherfucker a bit if he tried to create an ambush.

 **Oo0oO**

Training went well, the aches were a dull roar in the background, and I've had worse especially in the last two days. Though I made damn certain that Dave didn't tag me in the torso, high or low. He was improving though, partly because he was doing particular stretches and exercises Biker Doc suggested. I'm glad, though still a bit worried that he wasn't wearing armor. After this Saturday I'd try again.

 **Oo0oO**

At home I had left the bear to listen to a different CD today, I didn't want whomever had to slog through my recordings him to miss out on all the... subtleties the band had to offer. That should kill the battery, but to be sure it's getting one more day. Then I'd have to talk to Marcus.

The evening after supper was what I can sadly call pretty typical now. Toss the bear in the closet, practice, goop and pills. Those last two inches were not coming easily.

At least tomorrow will be patrols. Alone time with Dave is always good, and if something happens, I can vent a bit of stress from my system.


	20. Chapter 20

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 20

* * *

Ah, violence. I missed you so.

I've left a slightly sanitized version of the week in my regular diary. That way if Marcus violates my privacy again, all he'll see is chaste patrols with Dave. Which they were.

Not that it was bad thing. It's weird how looking your problems square in the face, or stuffing them _into_ your face, brought perspective and clarity. If Dave somehow saw reason and just threw me down on the rooftop and had his way with me, not only would it be lackluster for him since he wouldn't get it in very far, but he'd probably think he'd done something wrong and blame himself.

I just wasn't good enough yet.

But I was working on it. As fast as I could.

Otherwise, the only real changes to the patrols was the fact that thanks to my chest and guts being all achy and sensitive on me, I'd switch from IV to IIIA body armor. The literal weight off of my chest should keep me mobile enough.

I was thinking about pushing Dave to go at least III+, he'd be good for rifles then, as I don't see him ever being as mobile as I am. The order was en route, so he'd have even less excuse to say no.

We can't all be my level of awesome, even me currently thanks to the pills.

That and I'd have to get a shower cap I think. If my hair was dry I'd be that much faster either heading to bed or heading to school.

Tomorrow is Friday, our last day of patrol before heading to our respective Doc's. Dave was gonna grab his Dad's car, drop me off, head to his, and then pick me up from the pharmacist a block from Mengele's.

At home, the only odd thing was that my nipples were puffy before I gooped em' tonight, maybe they were learning the routine?


	21. Chapter 21

I'm typing this after a whole day of letting it sink in.

I have tits.

 **Oo0oO**

I woke up and started the usual routine. I was so tired that it took me until after the shower and in the Blue Jar goop stage that my hands weren't sliding up and down a flat plain, but bumping into… bumps.

I even looked down stupidly.

 **Oo0oO**

It wasn't much, barely a swelling but any chest is better than none.

Here, I'll prove it for you.

 **[(Tits)*n] / [(Tits)*0] = Infinity**

Going from no tits to any tits was in fact infinite tit growth.

And all it took was… 162 pills, six needles, and fourteen portions of goop from two jars. Plus pain of course, lots of pain, but that's hardly anything.

I was tough, I could stay the course.

 **Oo0oO**

I felt kinda sad strapping them under the fat suit, but the ambush had to be perfect, according to Max.

Despite that, I was found out right quick.

By _Angela_ of all people.

Somehow, through baggy clothes, a fat suit, and my superb acting, she figured it out in under two minutes.

"Your boobs are growing, aren't they?"

I almost fell down the stairs in shock. Her gaze turned nostalgic.

"I had the exact same look when my girls," she cupped her modest but leagues ahead of mine chest, "started growing in. I can always tell. Well, except for Jessi, but I was still a novice then. Now I am the Master."

I could't resist. "Only a master of tissue paper, _Darth_."

That earned me some groans and elbow digs.

 **Oo0oO**

Saturday came, and with it Dave and the trip to the Doc.

I'm gonna take back at _least_ half the Nazi cracks in this diary for this. There, done.

I swear, now that I was acutely aware of them I think they'd grown a hair bigger, or was it wishful thinking?

 **Oo0oO**

I couldn't get my shirt off fast enough.

Behold!

" _That's it_?"

The Doc was hard to impress.

 **Oo0oO**

"Are you sure you are following the process properly?"

He went through my meals for the past week. Check.  
He went through confirming I took every single pill. _Check.  
_ He had me peel off and reapply the Blue Jar right in front of him. Awkward enough to have him goop me up last week, here it was like I was giving him a show. **_Fucking Check._**

His impressive frown only deepened further when he confirmed I was doing everything as he said.

Then he spotted the fat suit I'd placed in the corner.

I don't know what language it was, but god _damn_ could it swear.

 **Oo0oO**

After a long and angry call where he half ranted in English at Max, half in that language I still didn't have a name for, I finally dragged an answer out of them.

In layman's terms. the shots in the armpits were targeting the lymph nodes and were supposed to jump start the process. The pills were both working all my glands into a frenzy, and, binding to the bits that grew cells. And the goop was supposed to slowly seep into the skin and be the catalyst, like a road sign saying 'TITS GO HERE'.

With the sheer amount of shit I was taking, plus all the added fat in my diet, I was supposed to be further along. The doc snarked, _snarked_ , that he he could have put twice the amount of tits on Max by now. While Max was on the phone.

That takes fucking balls. Also. _Bleh._ That was an image I never needed or wanted, **EVER**.

 **Oo0oO**

He had assumed that I'd be wearing normal clothes, and that I'd been getting more sunlight. Vitamin D needed fat to metabolize, and was a key factor apparently. That and since I was going from fat suit, to armored costume, to late patrols I was squishing them quite a bit.

Now I sure as shit wasn't gonna stop patrolling, and I wasn't gonna start sunbathing _nel complesso_ (I couldn't even practice half my exercise routine in the back yard, or even throw knives), and Max was adamant that the fat suit had to stay on...

The solution was just another shit-boulder I had to roll up a crap mountain. Move the fuck over Sisyphus, here comes Hit Girl.

And as I was soaking that in, Nazi-Doc took more blood, hair, and now I had to piss in a cup.

 _Joy_...

After that, I tossed on a hospital gown and waited for the Chiropractor.

 **Oo0oO**

She was a big lady, up and out, in her 50's, and had arms that could smoosh me like a tube of toothpaste. After a few minutes checking the x-rays, she had me laying face down and then proceeded to mutilate my spine with her elbows.

Well, it sure as shit felt like that.

In theory one more adjustment next week, barring unusual factors aka. baseball bats or ninjas, and then my leg should be fixed for good.

Any good cheer I got from that left when Nazi Doc brought out the needles.

Five this time, one under each collar bone and one under each shoulder blade in my back. Plus one under the belly button, just for variety.

And, once again, thanks to the call to Max, I didn't have time to get the shots numbed first.

Fuck my life.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave picked me up at the pharmacist and I found out that had to get a prescription.

Three different pills, each once a day.

Oh _boo_ fucking _hoo_ Dave, three pills. Let me get you tampon.

 **Oo0oO**

We got me my shower cap and assorted other sundries, and then got a little ice cream, it was a nice enough day for it, and it was just nice to be by him.

After that we did some training, and agreed to make Sunday our slack day. If these needles hit me like they did last week, I wasn't gonna be of any use to anyone.

Dinner with Marcus was fine, baked chicken and mac n' cheese. I had a couple'a tall glasses of milk with it, and then I dropped the bear on him.

 **Oo0oO**

Marcus didn't look surprised, only resigned when I came down the stairs and dropped the bear on the table.

Now to tie him into a knot. His choice on how this turns out.

"Look." I began. "I understand you need intel on the scum we bust up, but couldn't you just ask me and Dave? I don't mind giving you a quick report at the end of the week."

Will he man up and fess up, or will he take the excuse I just gave him as a way to squirm out?

He didn't fess up.

Shame, but at least now I know.

 **Oo0oO**

I was already starting to feel the effects of the needles, so no late night or practice for me.

I had an early shower, pills, goop then came the two new additions that Max and Mengele hammered out...My whole life was gonna be additions it seems.

I had a small UV lamp from the pharmacy, and I had to, well, baste for lack of a better word, for 15 minutes daily. It made the greyish goop from the Green Jar go clear. It was a minor nuisance at best.

But the other one...

I wish I could sigh in this diary, just typing it doesn't work.

Anyway, since I was spending so much time with a tight fat suit followed by a tight costume and body armor, the solution was to spend as much time as possible without any restraint at all.

Ergo, topless for as long a stretch as I can. At least an hour, preferably two.

No more nighties or pajama tops either. Or even my one a week favorite of one of Dave's old Spiderman T-Shirts (Eventually I'd return it to him and sneak out another).

Now I can't exactly be called squeamish, but _come the fuck on_.

But I did it.

 _After_ I swept for bugs with three different scanners _and_ slapped a post-it-note over my webcam. _And_ a wooden doorstop by the door. _And_ placed some of Marcus' old dress shirts at several strategic spots.

Being next to the spare room with all the old clothes of his meant they were my clothes now. Rights of salvage. Or conquest. One of them.

 **Oo0oO**

There, a shirt one step away from any corner of the room. One hanging on my computer chair, one under my pillow next to my Walter PPK (which meant there was no room for a silencer, but the pillow ought to work for a shot or two) one on the closet door, and one on the back of my bedroom door.

With the window the only point of approach I couldn't cover. That left the Maid Man or Dave, and only Dave wouldn't get a knife to the balls.

An hour on the Internet in my PJ bottoms only, and then bed. I could feel the ache coming.

Tomorrow was gonna blow goats.


	22. Chapter 22

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 22

 _Author's Note: I will be slowing down for about a week as my PC gets hauled in to be checked. I won't be stopping, but typing on the phone really slows things down. If nothing else I may just do smaller chunks._

* * *

The morning brought pain.

The angry man who spent a week stomping on my chest was back, and this time he was riverdancing. And while he did his friend was whacking my shoulder blades with bats.

I could barely lift my arms above my head, and that spot below my belly-button where last week I said anyone poking it was gonna die screaming?

I would die screaming.

I staggered into the shower and let the water do most of the work. My new shower cap saved me a bunch of time, which I'd need, as I now have to add 15 minutes of sitting in front of a UV lamp.

That was slow going too, as I had to rub it in and it felt like a I was rubbing a giant bruise. When my nipples perked up in the end, they were so sensitive that even the air on them hurt.

Before today, when people would tell me "Beauty is suffering" I'd typically respond with something like "no, this ice-pick to your liver is suffering!" but now... now I was beginning to understand. I won't say I fully understand, it's barely been a week of treatment and I just know that there was gonna be more and worse, but I was beginning to.

Sore as I was, I had plans to follow through.

I filled my hoodie's pockets with my tools.

 **Oo0oO**

Slack day's early afternoon, once I could at least shamble like a human being, was spent visiting Dave at his place. We played a few games on his computer together, though it was mostly him needling me when I died. Over and over and over... I will not admit defeat!

Eventually he left me to it and went to have a shower. Time to begin.

I busted out the bug detector and started sweeping the room...

 **Oo0oO**

He came out mostly dry and in his sweat pants, shame.

"Dave, if we're gonna go out you gotta dry your hair man, it's a fucking soggy mess."

I was poking at the screen. Hard.

 **YOUR ROOM HAS BEEN BUGGED. ACT NORMAL AND GET THE HAIR DRYER.**

Dave stared for a moment and for a second there I wanted slap either him or myself. I was trying to be cool here dammit! Maybe I should have blown up the font a bit.

"Um you think so?" Oh Dave, you gormless fuck.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the bug detector out of my pocket.

"Yes Dave" I nodded my head exaggeratedly. "Your hair is terrible and you should feel ashamed for not doing anything with it. Now get the god damn blow dryer so I can fix it."

 **Oo0oO**

He watched with inquisitive eyes as I plugged in the dryer to the unused wall socket by his comics. After turning his computer off and unplugging it of course.

"Mindy I-" I cut him off with a wave.

"Shut the fuck up Dave and hold still."

I plugged in the hair dryer and switched it on. Blowing a bit of hot air in his face to annoy him, I dropped it and squirted my water bottle at the socket.

Sparks, the stench of burnt plastic, and the bug in the wall socket joined the hair dryer in the afterlife. A fuse popped.

"Mindy! What the hell!"

"In a minute. Hold this light steady."

 **Oo0oO**

It was sloppy work. The plate was loose, the screw stripped, and the wiring of the bug to the power could have caused a fire, you know, if I hadn't thrown water on it.

Note to self: Fire extinguisher first.

I handed Dave the slightly melted little box with an antenna.

"Why is this here?" he whispered.

"It's dead Dave." I replied only slightly annoyed. "And as for why, you can thank Marcus."

That seemed to perplex him. "Marcus? But why?"

I knew this question was coming, but still it irked me a bit. If he really thought about it for a second he ought to put it together.

And then he'd freak out, say he'd never do anything like that with me, and that Marcus was being crazy to worry.

And then he'd probably be surprised why I broke his ribs after.

"I dunno Dave, he gave me a really shitty answer when I plonked the bear in front of him. So, until I do know, I'll do a sweep every time I come by. Also, I'll see about getting you one for yourself."

I'd give him the one Max gave me. I'd already confirmed it didn't pick up Max's bugs. There were two in here, and I was curious what the other one did. The audio one picked up pretty much everything as it was.

 **Oo0oO**

It had been a while since I had been to the Atomic Comics. Fuck, the last time I had, Marty had been here.

It felt so strange without Marty there. Still, with Dave and Todd it wasn't all bad, and they did their best to cheer me up and avoid the elephant in the room.

Dammit Marty, even without you here I was expecting your comeback...

My thoughts were interrupted by the door chime ringing. Out of habit I turned to do a quick check.

My hands crushed the comic I was holding.

 _Max_ was here.


	23. Chapter 23

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 23

* * *

What in the name of _fuck_ was Max doing in a comic book store?!

My mind was racing a mile a minute and I was unarmed. I hated that feeling, it was like I was failing on multiple levels.

My eyes were flickering around the store while trying to not lose sight of him. I was looking for exits, improvised weapons, points of hard cover, everything you need to survive an oncoming shit storm.

Why here? Why now?

He wouldn't be here unprotected. Will there be snipers? Bombs? No one was surprised to see him, that meant he was not a new sight. Where was that fucking maid of his?

"Mindy? You all right?"

It took a supreme effort of will not to break Dave's wrist as he waved it over my eyes.

"Sorry, just a little surprised." I managed to get out.

Still, the distraction helped me, as in that I took in all of Max.

He looked so _different_.

His hair was all silver, not the flecks like before. His eyebrows were thicker and matched his hair. He was leaning on a cane like he had a limp. His clothes were still dignified, but a little plainer, a little older. They were well worn but looking like careful diligence and mending kept it going into his retirement. A reluctance to change.

All of it lies.

"Hey Duke!" Called Dave, walking over to him.

'Duke' hobbled over on his cane and met Dave half way.

"Hello David." Max extended his hand.

They bumped fists.

At this point I was hoping to hear either the sounds of the Twilight Zone theme song, or the sound of a fucking Tardis. Then this would all make sense.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave introduced me to 'Duke' and we shook hands. His hands _felt_ old, slightly infirm, even if I knew for a fact that he could, and had, torn out a mans trachea with them. And this wasn't even that long ago. How did he do that? How did he _change_ so much? I felt like an amateur hour clown in my fat suit.

"Hello young lady, " His face looked peaceful, wise, and cheerful. And gave me absolutely _nothing_ to work on. "You must the Mindy that David's said so much about. I am Duke Togo."

"Nice to meet you."

I tried my very best to look like I wasn't plotting to kill him in self defense. I don't think he bought it.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave had met 'Duke' in the hospital.

He was reading some comics to the comatose Marty and Duke had overheard him. After Dave had finished and was preparing to leave, Duke walked in and complimented him on his friendship, for staying by his side.

I hadn't even known Dave was doing that, I thought he was just boinking Katie every moment he had free. Now I felt like shit, well more like shit. I could have been going with him.

After chatting for a bit, Duke decided that he too would read comics to the one he was visiting, a grandson in a coma, and drove Dave to Atomic Comics to purchase almost ten grand in comics. Whatever Dave suggested, he bought.

Now, i'm _fairly_ certain Max did not in fact put the kid into a coma as an excuse to talk to Dave. Probably. It's much more likely he sent his minions to find someone who didn't get any visitors.

Naturally his large purchases quickly made him a friend of the owner, and it spread in turn to the rest as he talked to and listened to their suggestions. Now Max showed up typically once a week, coincidentally when Dave was in, and bought more of the items in the series he suggested. He was also donating the comics after he read them to the children in the long-term care.

Max had, in less than three visits in Atomic Comics, gotten better acquainted with everyone here than I have in _months_. He was the cool old guy who came in, bought comics, and sat in the back quietly reading them. Just listening to the joy of youthful enthusiasm.

I resisted the urge to pull out the bug sweeper. In any event this place was no longer safe to talk in. And I couldn't even blame Marcus for this, there was no way Dave would buy the idea of Marcus bugging a comic book store just to listen to him.

With nothing else I could do, I paid for the comic I crumpled, and chatted with Dave and the rest.

With Max, sorry, Duke sitting in the corner, reading.

 **Oo0oO**

'Duke' left earlier than usual apparently, and I chanced to be near the front glass as he left.

He was driving an older car, late 80's I think, all boxy and serious colors. Probably two magnitudes cheaper than what he took me to the clinic in that first time. Before he pulled out of the parking lot, he fiddled with something out of sight.

My burner phone buzzed.

 **After your next session with your Doctor, visit me the day after.**

Then he looked me in the eye, nodded, and drove off.

Sunday was just going to be _grand_.

 **Oo0oO**

I was feeling better after supper when I got the fat suit off and got more practice in. No new bugs showed up, either on my computer or anywhere in the room.

I didn't want to have another shower, so I set my jaw and peeled the waxy coating of the Blue Jar off my chest.

 _Ouch_. Double Ouch when it got to the nipples. Fucking things.

Then, before I reached for the Green Jar for slathering round two, for my own sense of progress, I grabbed a cloth measuring tape.

I will not be putting the numbers in here, as when I re-read this it'd drive me into despair. Instead, I will report milestones, and the numbers will go into a spreadsheet so I can plot a chart. And it better be god damn going up.

For the record, as of today, I am... an AA cup.

It doesn't sound like much, and it isn't really, but I was an engine of progress, first with Daddy, and now with this. With Dave.

I'd be perfect as fast as I possibly could.

No matter what it cost.


	24. Chapter 24

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 24

* * *

Monday and school. I won't admit it to anyone, but I was glad I was skipping the gym classes. I needed quiet time to plan and soak up whatever energy I could from my heavy breakfasts.

It wasn't all bad. Jessi was spending more time with me in my efforts to stay unnoticed, which was odd considering her clothes. And with her often came Angela. Angela the sometimes super scary observant, sometimes frigging oblivious.

It made the school days go by just that bit faster. The homework sure wasn't entertaining or even a challenge. One of my earlier goals, to jump ahead and get into high school, was something I was going to have to seriously discuss this weekend with Max. I didn't see any problems with me doing it, but then again if every plan I had worked, Dave would already be fucking me. Thus I needed the advice of my Elders.

 **Oo0oO**

Today I finally got Dave into armor. It was for practice only, to get him used to falling, rolling, getting to his feet, and one final thing. The _best_ part.

I beat the living _shit_ outta him. Sticks, bats, pool cues and golf clubs. And with Dave's already high tolerance, he was practically a terminator getting up steadily. Stress relief at it's finest.

Now I wasn't aiming for the gaps, or to exploiting the armor to wreck his joints, or battering the armor to lock his breathing down. I was trying to show him the benefits of armor, not it's downsides.

He was surprisingly stubborn about it, but I think I had a strong strategy to pull him into the idea. By having him and myself in armor during practice, we could wail on each other far harder and still be good for patrols.

And, when I went out in mine and he didn't, he'd feel vulnerable.

Plus the fact I could use the body armor like I used the fat suit. Keep things covered until the blitzkrieg.

Still, if I hadn't gotten him into it before too long, I'd bounce ideas off of Max. It just wasn't safe. Saturday night specials were starting to get more common.

 **Oo0oO**

By Tuesday I was confident I could go at about ninety percent for at least ten minutes. After that, my hands would be shaking and I'd have to be careful with any shots I took.

Barring another army of Cunts or some seriously jacked goons, there wasn't much I was too worried about.

Still, Dave insisted on a stake out that day after Monday's training. Maybe he was the one really feeling the after effects? The armor should have done the job. And normally, when it was quiet like this, we'd talk even if it was about stupid shit. But now it was silent and awkward.

I didn't like it.

"You all right Dave? I didn't beat you too hard did I?" No sense being subtle about it.

"What? No. The armor did fine. I barely felt it until the end there." A snarky Dave eh? I could do that.

"Was that permission to beat you harder?" I teased. "You know I could."

He grinned at me through his mask and shook his head. "No, that's fine." He could learn!

"Is this about me finding out about you visiting Marty?" I probed gently watching him curl into himself and look away. "I am curious why you didn't bring me along. He's my friend too you know."

Dave couldn't put it into words. I could tell he kept trying to find them, but nothing came out. I solved it as best I could.

I shuffled over beside him and leaned in close to bump his forehead with my own. "It's okay, just give me a call the next time. I wouldn't mind coming along."

He relaxed at that, but immediately tensed up when I straddled his lap.

"Hey." I breathed, barely above a whisper not an inch from his face. "You know what'd _really_ make you feel better?"

Our faces were so close he was breathing my air. He shivered in the cool April breeze. "What?"

"Gang-bangers."

Oh the look on his face...

"Wh-what?" I grinned at his flummoxed face. And was that a trace of disappointment, or was I deluding myself?

"Gang-bangers. Four of them have been circling that ATM down there for the last half-hour." I leaned back and gestured towards them with my face. "They aren't even being the least bit careful about it either."

I looked back at him. "So, you wanna grab the trench coat and fedora and head to the ATM, or," I leaned towards him. "Did you wanna cuddle some more."

His face was red and I smothered my giggles as he pushed me off and strode to the duffel bag. It wouldn't do to alert the cunts below.

 **Oo0oO**

I was right, it did end up making him feel better.

They circled around Dave as he punched buttons at the ATM and pretended not to notice them, and I circled around them out of sight.

One had a gun, and with Dave unarmored that meant he went first, even if he was the smallest.

 **Oo0oO**

Naturally my zeal at this meant Dave got a little red on him. It'd wash out.

"Jesus _Fuck_ Hit Girl! You nearly took his arm off!" Dave was busy staunching the cunt's bleeding.

"It's called 'Disarmed' for a reason Kick-Ass." I waved the crappy six shooter at him. "It was just a finger or two. Or three. He can still scratch his balls."

I will admit, not gutting the fucks was slowly starting to appeal to me. Not that I thought that the time in prison would do them any good. If it did, it would have by now. But as they started to pile up, more and more with bits taken out of them, word would spread.

 **Do not fuck with Kick-Ass and Hit Girl**. That needs to be bolded and underlined.

Being the thing that scares the crap outta them in the night felt good.

Fuck it, I was keeping one of these fingers. Batman had trophies didn't he?


	25. Chapter 25

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 25

 _Author's note: Huzzah! the reviews and comments are back. I like those, it's like tasting a soup while preparing it. Lets me know what to adjust._

* * *

The rest of the week was comparatively mild. I felt better, still not tip-top shape, but well enough. The aches faded in most places, I got used to the heavier diet, I had broken out the bigger jeans and long sleeved shirts at school for the fat suit, and I was well on my way to being that quiet pudgy girl in the library that no one bothered much.

Oh yeah, and my tits were growing like _crazy_.

Yeah that deserved to be a line separate to the rest, if only for how freaky it was.

 **Oo0oO**

It's kinda weird how much I'm talking about them, especially when looked at my old diary when I was with Daddy. Back then it was all _guns_ and _training_ and how many _reps_ of exercises I did, 'cause that was important to Daddy, and thus to me.

But Daddy was dead, Now I am with Dave.

With Dave came a new diary, and, since he really wanted me to try being normal and go to school and all that, most of my diary was about that. Who I talked to and what I did. Even now I still filled in that one, if only out of habit and to give Marcus, when he went through my room _again_ , something to check over (He still didn't notice the hair or the pencil lead, sloppy).

When I realized that Dave liked tits, I spent a bit of time looking online on how to get my own. Naturally the internet was filled with pills and gadgets and _bullshit_. And pictures of course, tons of pictures to make me feel horribly inadequate in every which way, but there was also some small silver linings.

There were websites to help girls like me, aka. flatter than most boys (Put down the Mountain Dew you mooby fucks!), get ready for the "transition into little women", or some shit like that. And tits were the number one question on the website, as well as number two and three.

There were empowering trite little stories about ladies " _blooming_ " over their teenage years, or " _blossoming_ " over a summer break into their training bras. And other flower metaphors, mostly to do with cunts and meat flaps and vaginal discharge and crusty panties.

Too many flower metaphors for one bush really, the fucking pansies.

 _Hah_! See what I did there?

But then things changed, then I wanted more from Dave, and to be more to him. And when I realized what exactly I wanted, well, new game plan. New me. New Diary.

 **Oo0oO**

Anyways, ever since that impressive rant from the Nazi-Doc, I'd been paying much closer attention to what was happening to me, myself, and I.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't find out what more than a third of the pills did, most had no labels on the pills itself, and even in the notes Max gave me all it had were generic. Hormone suppressant, hormone replacement, exocrine stimulant, endocrine suppressant, immunosuppressant. And that was all the shit I _understood_. A lot of it went way _way_ over my head. At thirty pills staggered over a day it was daunting.

The goop in the Jars had even less for me to go on, just ratios and application instructions. The Blue Jar was simply "40% Stimulant / 60% Firmament" whereas the Green Jar had "20% Stimulant / 20% Firmament / 60% Catalyst". What the fuck did that even mean?

The best answer I could reason out was like the game I'd seen people do with fortune cookies, only mine was 'of your tits.'

The Blue Jar was 40% Stimulant of your tits / 60% Firmament of your tits. See?

I didn't plan on counting Sunday mornings, as those tended to be pain filled shitstorms after meeting the Doc, and any swelling had really obvious, and _needly_ , sources. Sunday evening though was when I started taking numbers.

And _sweet fuck_ did it work now that I was getting the UV and letting things air out. If anything the Doc was lowballing things.

 **Oo0oO**

The end of Monday saw me _impressed_. All that week long effort last week which had me ecstatic was done again in a day. One day.

Tuesday had me _thrilled_ , look at them go! Well, not really, you couldn't see them grow, even though I did try for half an hour that evening. It was all measuring tape and numbers. But bigger numbers.

Wednesday saw me _excited beyond words_. I must have spent ages in front of a mirror preening and posing like Dave's nudie mags, though with my pants on. At that point, I stopped wearing shirts the second I could get out of sight.

Thursday had me _slightly_ worried. I was still getting bigger but there were red spoke-like lines. Stretch marks. I checked those websites and they said it was common, completely normal, and could also happen on the hips or thighs. Still, what I was doing wasn't remotely normal.

Then came Friday...

 **Oo0oO**

The alarm rang I sat up groggily.

Last night had me running after two semi-healthy fucks for almost a full mile, damn stubby legs of mine. I tackled one and Dave the other, but fuck if I wasn't the one wheezing. I need more cardio.

Not really satisfying, but you couldn't expect quality scum to come out of the woodwork on demand. Plus I dribbled the asshole's face a little bit on the curb, so it wasn't all bad.

I stretched and scratched my stomach a bit, sleeping in just the pajama bottoms made my stomach all itchy. As I did my hand brushed against the towel.

It was stuck to my chest. That happened sometimes, especially back before I zapped the goop with the UV like the doc said. Still I thought I spent an hour before sleeping, it should have dried...

Looking more closely, it wasn't really stuck to anything but my nipples really. It peeled off easily enough, and then I got a good look at them.

 _Holy shit_. AA no more. I was at least an A. _At least_.

Not believing my eyes I poked the right one with a finger. It really was there, my skin felt stretched tight like a drum, it hurt to poke, and yes, it really was there.

I fell back on my pillow, lost in thought. Then I noticed what was bugging me.

Shouldn't they have vanished when I was lying on my back? That's what they did unless they were massive, or fake. Now I wasn't massive, but these were again not normal.

I sat back up and decided to give the left one a squeeze. Did they feel all right?

It didn't. It also hurt. And then it started _leaking_.

And as I said before, my nipples are team players. The right one decided to follow along and start leaking as well.

And this wasn't milk. Milk wasn't grey.

I freaked out.

 _Quietly_ of course, I didn't want to wake up Marcus.

Oo0oO

I was almost late to school as I had torn through all the print outs looking for something, _anything_ , to explain all this and explain it good.

On page ten, halfway down was one line. One line.

 **Excise discharge if any.**

That was it.

So, in the shower, I tried.

It hurt, and runny grey... discharge dribbled out on my fingers to be washed away by the running water, and I freaked out slightly louder where the shower would cover the noise.

I took the pills, but that was it. No more goop until I saw Doc, and he better have more than one sentence to explain this. His wedding tackle hinged on this.

 **Oo0oO**

School was a tense affair. I had to conceal just how damn terrified I was that something was really wrong with me. Jessi noticed I think, but didn't say anything, whereas Angela was thankfully oblivious.

I spent most of my lunch hour in a bathroom stall, fat suit peeled down to the waist as I squeezed more grey discharge into handfuls of toilet paper.

And, worst of all, I had to cancel my going out with Dave after school. I blamed it on my period and how if I got any crankier I was going to blow some punks head off.

After we hung up I felt absolutely fucking terrible. I let Dave _down_. He was going out, _unarmored_ , and without me to protect him. And all because of stuff I was doing to myself.

I ended up bawling my eyes out until the chirp from the motion sensor registered Marcus' car. Then I hopped in the shower and continued quietly.

 **Oo0oO**

Dinner was awkward. I barely ate, and I blamed it on my period again.

I spent the evening quietly with a cloth band holding toilet paper to my chest and Dave's t-shirt over that. I was mostly on the internet alternating looking for solutions, and looking at pages about tit cancer.

And the rest of the time I was checking my burner phone for messages from Dave.

When he reported in a quiet night and he had arrived home safely I felt so _relieved_. And guilty, can't forget that.

That night I barely slept. My mind was digging up ever worse visions to plague me.

 _Fuck_.


	26. Chapter 26

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 26

* * *

I asked Dave to stop by the safehouse for a minute. I wanted to drop something off and it was on the way.

It wasn't a drop off though, it was a pickup.

My hoodie's pocket now had a hand grenade in it. Fragmentary and high yield. A room clearer.

The way I saw it, there was a few ways this could go.

If it was something bad but fixable, I'd do it.

If it wasn't fixable, well, it'd depend on who's fault it was.

If it was the Doc's, well, I'd hug the Doc, put my head near his, and pull the pin. Boom.

If it was mine, I'd thank him for his time, and head to the bathroom to do it there instead.

As we pulled up, I warned Dave I was gonna be about an hour longer than normal, and that I'd call him when I was done. Chiropractor you know, for that extra work on my back and all.

 **Oo0oO**

"Hmm? Discharge? Oh, that's normal." He hadn't even looked up from papers in the folder he was reading.

He _did_ look up at the * **Thunk** * sound when I placed the hand grenade on his desk. With the pin still in though.

Then he saw the expression on my face.

"Pardon, a poor choice of words. It is _expected_." He stressed the word. "What we are doing is not remotely normal."

Off went my shirt and the cloth band, Then the tissue paper.

"This?" I gave them both a squeeze. "This is expected?" Grey trickled on my fingers.

He nodded though his eyebrow was raised. "Yes, though that is a bit more than I expected. Still, the instructions should have been sufficient."

"It was one fucking line!"

His eyes narrowed and he looked more like an evil Nazi scientist than usual.

"Show me."

 **Oo0oO**

"This is everything Max gave you?" He was flipping through the printouts quickly, angrily.

"Yep. That's everything."

"This is..." he trailed off. "An extremely trimmed down version of what I sent him. The dietary plan alone was twenty pages."

He looked at me squarely in the eyes. "It appears, in his zeal to trimming that all down, he also excised several of the warnings. The jar containing the Catalyst for example, it was indeed supposed to be discontinued at the moment you noticed discharge. That warning was removed and it could have caused complications down the line."

Vindication and relief felt pretty fucking sweet. I kept my glare on though.

I threw my shirt on, grabbed the cloth band and my duffel bag. "All right, this wasn't your fault, but you came _this_ close," I held my finger and thumb about a quarter apart. "to having them fish pieces of both of us off the ceiling."

I took the papers and tossed them into the duffel bag. "So, this is what we're gonna do. We're going into your office and you are going to email me a copy of everything, and I do mean everything, I will be watching. Then, you are going to print me out everything, even if kills a tree. Then, I'm gonna ask you some quick questions about my immediate future. Then, I'm hauling the whole thing over to Max tomorrow and having words with him about his _editing_."

He looked more and more alarmed as I went on and kept glancing at the hand grenade. "We won't have that much time! I have appointments!"

I smiled, reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a little jar of piss. "There, that's five minutes saved. If you need it warm, throw it into a microwave."

 **Oo0oO**

Fuck killing a tree, this was gonna kill a _toner cartridge_. Even emailing the zip file took a while.

The Doc's phone blinked about a third of the print job through. "That would be the Chiropractor."

I nodded. "Grab the X-rays and get her ready. I'll join you in 3C after I grab all this and toss it in the duffel bag."

He scowled at me, looked at the hand grenade, and left.

It took ten more minutes.

Fuck me, it was one hundred and fifty pages exactly. Double sided.

 **Oo0oO**

After the Chiropractor was done dropping the people's elbow on my spine the Doc got to work on me. We talked while he worked, and despite the somewhat terse beginning, he quickly warmed up to the topic. He did love his work.

\- First, the discharge. "I must apologize for that, though this is uncharted territory for my work. You are the youngest I have ever worked upon, with the prior youngest being fourteen. I used too much Catalyst, a ratio of forty percent probably would have been sufficient."

He stepped behind me, reached around and groped me with one hand while the other brandished a small towel. "Here. Tweak it like so, then start at the base and roll your fingers upwards." It hurt a lot less the way he did it, and he talked while he gently squeezed me.

"Breasts grow in several stages." He began. "Prepubertal was where you were when you came in that first day with Max. Nothing but _potential_." He tweaked my nipple a bit.

"On Friday you had reached the second stage, budding. Though due to the Catalyst you didn't experience any real areola expansion. We'll be adjusting that later once the initial shape has been sculpted out."

"Glandular breast tissue presents itself in the third stage, and as you can see, it was pressed into action early and _extremely_ well." His voice held quiet pride.

He finished with squeezing the one boob. "As for the fourth and fifth stages, I'll be happy to talk to you about them in the next few weeks, but they would take too much time right now. You may have one more day of discharge to deal with, but that should be it."

He had me work on the other boob and answered my questions as he prepared my next week's treatment.

\- Zits? "Some. Especially if certain changes to your regiment have to occur. Probably less than the usual brats. Keep your face clean."

\- Hair in funny places? "You shouldn't. Super heroes are typically streamlined and I failed to see stubble on any of the examples Max provided. Plus with all the Cyproterone and Spironolactone you are taking as inhibitors... No. What, you want a landing strip or something? Get a merkin."  
Shame, a little hair might help Dave over his reluctance. I filed away the word 'merkin' for later.

\- Hips and ass? "Later. Normally I'd do the entire package over the course of a year, maybe two. Apparently though _certain_ aspects," he gestured at my chest. "are being put in first."

\- The Cunt. "Later, see previous answer."

\- Was there any HGH in all this? "Why bother? Women already make more than men. It's already being factored in with the blood tests."

\- Periods. "Massive spikes of estrogen ruining _my_ delicately balanced levels? No. _No_! You can have them later."  
That's a bonus at least.

\- Blue and Green Jar. "Take them with you to Max tomorrow."

\- The Leg. "Put it through the paces this week. Let me know if you need a further adjustment."

Then came the new shit. Two new Jars, Brown and Yellow.

The Brown was to be rubbed into the stretch marks in the morning to accelerate their reduction. After washing off the Yellow Jar. But no UV for that though. Score! It also flaked off in large chunks after a while. Mixed score.

The Yellow was the night-time goop and needed the 15 minutes of the UV. However it's application would vary every week and it's concentrations would also change.

He demonstrated the first week's motions on me. "Pinch the nipple, pull forward until the skin is as tight as you can, rub in thoroughly. Keep the entire nipple area clean. Now do the other."

Next the pills. Four out, six in. Adjustments to fifteen others. "No more counterpoints to the Catalyst. We will be aiming for beyond heterogeneous density now. High 60's, low 70's."

Blood and hair were routine at this point, though he sneered at the piss cup. "This better be from this morning."

And finally, the part we all know was coming, the needles.

 _Only_ two? What, was he in a good mood because he saw a kitten die this morning?

Fire away!

"Say Ahh."

My mouth? Okay... Under the tongue? That wasn't too bad...

"That's it?" I massaged the skin under my chin a bit.

"Hmm? Oh no, no. That was just the anesthetic." Then he brought out the other two needles.

Even from here I could measure the diameter of the bore.

He savored the expression on my face. He must have been practicing as he didn't tear anything at all when he smiled thinly.

"Now say 'Ahh'."

Fuck he needed a monocle.

 **Oo0oO**

I met Dave at the pharmacist after I picked up the Jars, pills, and a cold pack. I had to hide it as he arrived. Didn't want him asking any awkward questions, like "What did you get stabbed in the face? _Twice_?"

He refilled his measly 3 pill prescriptions and rubbed at his arm irritably.

"I had to get a shot. It still hurts..." He complained.

I had no words.

 _No_. _Words_.

He caught a whiff of my contempt somehow. "You look a little rough, did it go well?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to move my tongue much right now.

"Wanna get anything after this."

I now had words.

" _Ice cream_." I growled out.

 **Oo0oO**

That night, after a quiet afternoon with Dave (quiet on my end, you'd be amazed what you can do with grunts and shrugs), I settled down after a long, chest-squeezy, shower.

All I had on my person was my hair in a towel tornado, my pajama bottoms, and my scowl.

Taking the new pills _sucked_ with my face right now.

 _Practice_?! If anything got even _near_ my face, I'd alternate between screaming like a little girl and gnawing on it like a _fucking dingo_. So _no_ , no practice.

Snapping the gloves on, I got to work on the Yellow Jar.

It wasn't too bad, mostly as my torso hadn't been impaled with fucking harpoons from a fucking Nazi today, but I wasn't worried. There was always next week.

I spent the fifteen minutes in front of the lamp reading some of the papers, or at least trying to. Fuck it was complex.

I understood why Max did what he did, but still, goddammit man, leave every single warning in there! It wouldn't scare me any more than I did myself.

Yes, I now know that leaving stuff from the Green Jar anywhere else would have ended up causing large cysts that'd have to be surgically removed. _That is good information to know_. Plus yes, the discharge was there too. A page and a half all about it. My Friday would have been so much less _terrifying_ if I had that.

The UV done, the goop had gone clear, I spent the next hour or so just relaxing and checking online newspapers for possible serial killers and circling areas where Dave and I could go next.

Then I remembered something.

What the fuck was a merkin?

 **Oo0oO**

Okay _eew_ , fucking _fucking_ **eew**. People _wore_ those?

.

..

...I wonder if they came in purple?


	27. Chapter 27

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 27

* * *

The Doc was right. By Sunday morning I could barely squeeze a dribble out of them. Crisis averted.

My mouth hurt, yes, But it was nothing compared to the hell of the last two weeks, or of Friday. Mouths healed quick.

And I was officially on the A-Team, though I didn't have a van or heavy jewelry.

With nearly all my fears allayed all that left was the long visit to Max.

I had so many questions.

And I'd get them and more.

 **Oo0oO**

The Maid-Man had improved a lot in so little time.

As he took my coat I could barely notice the armor, I couldn't smell the oil on the weapons, and his gait had me almost convinced he was having work done. Maybe he was?

I handed him my duffel bag to carry and told him of the Jars inside. He nodded and gestured towards the parlor before walking off through another doorway.

The table was back in the parlor, but I don't think the glass was.

"Hello Mindy." He motioned me to sit.

"Hello 'Duke'." He ignored my jab and reached for the small pile of folders near by. "Your comic collection has grown. Weren't you going to donate them?"

"After they were all read, as you recall. I haven't finished them all yet." He looked at me. "We'll get to what you are hinting at in due time."

The Maid-Man reappeared with the tea trolley. My duffel bag was on the bottom trolley. Wait... that was a slightly different color.

"Yes, that is a new duffel bag, and yes, everything was transferred over. Even the bomb." Maid-Man handed me the googly eyes I had placed on the grenade. "My agreement with Doctor Bildhauer is quite specific, any excess is to be retrieved as well as any containers used in their transport. He is quite protective of his secrets."

I shrugged, figuring as much.

"Now, I assume your desired appearance is coming along?" He said, looking down at what was no doubt a report on my figure from the Nazi-Doc.

"Tit's is growin'. I'm an A cup now, and I have new jars of shit t'rub in. Wanna see?" I knew he didn't like sloppy speech, and was trying to needle him as much as I could.

"And your practice? You have kept that up?"

"Yep. I'ma mean ol' cocksuckah right now." I slapped my best Stallone accent on. Which is to say a fucking _terrible_ accent. "I brought lil' Dave. Wan' me t'show ya?"

His eyebrow twitched a bit at that, though whether it was my drawl, or him having to watch something without a dick polish a rubber dong, I could not say. Maybe both?

"Perhaps later." he reached for the next folder. "Now, about your efforts at school..."

I couldn't take it any more and I interrupted him. "May we cut to the chase here Max?" I bullied onward. "You _fucked_ up. You fucked up and nearly cost me _everything_."

My words were coming faster now. "If I found out that I'd have to get my tits chopped off, here's how it would have gone down. First, I'd find out about your fuck up from the Doc, I'd pull the answers out of him along with his guts and teeth. Then I'd whack him, his secretary, anyone in the waiting room and then I'd grab the nearest car."

I stood up and marched over to the tea trolley. "A quick stop at a safe house, and I'd be here in about fifteen minutes with enough explosives to take out a couplea' city blocks. I wouldn't have to get all that close. And all this is because _you_ ," I reached into the duffel bag and pulled out the papers. "Didn't give me all _this._ "

I slammed the pile of papers on the table. Looking down on it I frowned for a moment and then back at him. Was it...?

"And if Marcus pulled out the drawer and noticed the added weight of a small dictionary?" He countered coldly. "Or worse, if he actually read any of it and passed it onto enough people in his precinct that I couldn't stop it? The worst case your redacted copy would have given him was that you had bought into the claims of a fraudulent doctor to grow breasts like countless other rubes in the past. Even a half-wit of an attorney would have been able to muddy the waters of such circumstantial evidence."

"And your editing had my tits on the chopping block!" I countered. It was a sore subject for me. I just got these things for fucks sake!

His face was like granite. "It's not just you that gets affected by things."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look. I shall offer my apologies now for the mishap. May we finish everything else you need to know and then work on this? We ought to be able to get you a goodly portion ready in the last hour today."

"What do you have to talk about that could be possibly more important?"

One word was all it took to sway me.

"Dave."

Tits were tits, but Dave was Dave.

"Apology accepted."

 **Oo0oO**

"You must understand, reports can only help you so far with a subject. After that, you must meet them or at least see them. I had data but not the man." He took a sip of his tea. "And thus I went to meet him."

"The hospital was a fortuitous happenstance. If my man hadn't trailed him to the hospital, I was prepared to meet him at his work instead."

I snorted, the image was too much. Max in an ice cream shop?! Like it'd melt in his fucking mouth. He raised an eyebrow.

"I would have brought a photo of a dead wife, let Dave know it was our anniversary, and offered to be the ear about relationship troubles." He shrugged. "It's worked before."

"Once at the hospital, It was a trivial matter to find him, observe, and create a scenario on the spot."

I had to know. "Did you actually put the kid in a coma?" He shook his head in response. "It's far too easy to come across people lost in the cracks."

True that.

 **Oo0oO**

He paused to take another sip. "Dave is conflicted right now. He has two lives; A safe, relatively pleasant one with Katie, and a life of pain and excitement with you. His youth and several other factors have him chafing at the banality of the former, while his more painful experiences leave him somewhat tentative to the latter. Also, he is smart enough to recognize a Betty and Veronica situation when he see's it."

Who?

At my blank look, he looked at me for a moment before hesitantly continuing. "As in the Archie Comics?"

Finally he explained. "A situation not dissimilar to you and Katie with Dave."

Ah.

"Dave wanted dearly to talk to an older man about his thoughts on his life, but due to the nature of being a Superhero, he couldn't talk to his father. As Duke, I've listened to Dave and while he was roundabout in his approach; he alludes all this being two different part-time jobs, one boring but well paying, and the other exciting but a lot of work and an unknown future. I hope you can grasp _those_ parallels without my help."

I could, and with the Doc's help I'd be big money soon.

"Thus far, I've alluded to knowing men who took it safe and died with regrets later in life, to how he is young that he should explore and take chances, and how I met my 'wife' by taking a chance and being rewarded with a happy life rather than a content one. I've even used inspirational platitudes that I've seen on posters."

Did he mean?

"The time is nigh. Are you prepared?"

 **Oo0oO**

Was I prepared?

Could I walk up to Dave, smile, and go on my knees? Could I suck his dick?

It's one thing to be playing pretend in my room with a rubber dong and a vibrating egg. Could I do it for real? In an alleyway, with the sounds of traffic nearby? Where people might see me?

I suddenly felt like the little girl that Marcus wanted me to be.

And then I remembered Katie, bouncing up and down on Dave.

I could be that close to him, feel his heart against my skin, be the first thing he see's when he wakes up.

And all it'd cost is a little bit of pride.

Barely anything at all.

" _Yes_." I whispered.

Max nodded at me and reached for a folder.

 **Oo0oO**

Hours later during my rehearsal my phone buzzed.

Dave was going to the hospital and wondered if I wanted to come along.

A quick check with Max and I gave my response.

I'd meet him there.


	28. Chapter 28

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 28

* * *

While Max changed again into Duke while I gathered everything up and got to the door. The Maid-man was back in his dress and directed me out back and took my duffel bag. It'd be placed in my room while I was visiting.

I had never seen Max's back yard. It looked so... normal.

No sandbags, no paper targets, no spot in the sand to do Kung-fu battles in.

It was well maintained, pretty even. But it wasn't the back yard of a man who had made his name in murder like he did.

The Maid-man lead me to the large garage, where several cars were kept. Including the car Max had driven to Atomic Comics.

The garage had no guns, no walls of bombs, not even a chamber for making bullets.

Was this place truly so undefended?

 **Oo0oO**

After a few minutes Max entered the garage. His work was once again perfect, and he looked to be a harmless seventy year old man. Fuck it was spooky.

"Are you ready?" Even here, just with me present, he was in character. I nodded.

We took the car. He drove well, not like the stereotypical old man you see on TV or the movies. Only here could I see glimpses of the real Max, quietly anticipating people and traffic, precise, nothing wasted.

He dropped me off two blocks away from the hospital. That'd give him time to talk to Dave a little more.

It wasn't a long walk really, but it got me a touch sweaty and windblown. As I arrived the bus I would have taken drove by. Goddammit Max, make a mistake sometime wouldya?!

 **Oo0oO**

He and Dave were busy talking in Marty's room when I got there. I decided to listen in.

"So you're saying I should go for it?" Dave sounded nervous. Go for what? For me?

"Now now Dave, you can't use me as justification." Max, sorry 'Duke's, grandfatherly voice said reproachfully. "It has to be your choice."

"But what if it's the wrong choice?"

"Then you live with it, make amends, and move on as best you can. Life seldom gives you guarantees." Duke rapped his cane twice on the ground. "This leg came from a choice. It hurts in inclement weather, and made dancing with my daughter awkward on her wedding day. Yet it also meant I saved the life of someone I regarded a brother to me."

"And if your choice could drive that friend away from you forever. What then?" Dave sounded so small, conflicted.

I heard Max chuckle and it practically smelled of pipe smoke and rocking chairs.

"Son, that's easy." He said. " _You_ don't make the choice, you let them make it and don't say no. Then if it goes belly up, they'll help you out because it was their idea after all."

After a moment of silence I heard Dave step over to Max. "Thanks. For loaning me an ear. And advice."

"A loan that pays for itself, and advice costs nothing to offer. Now, I must be off, I have a friend to liberate some money from in a poker game."

"Did you put him up to it?" I could hear Dave's smirk.

"Nonsense, he offered and I just didn't say no."

And with that, Max was off, hobbling on his cane. As he strode past me, radiating old-man-rays in every direction, he never broke character save for one motion. He smoothly tapped two fingers on his wrist.

Wait two minutes and then go.

And then he was gone.

 **Oo0oO**

"Hey." I didn't really know what else to say, but Dave looked up from his comic book and smiled anyway. "Hey yourself."

I nodded at Marty. "How's he doing?"

"Unchanged. But he's not getting any worse."

I walked over next to his bed and looked at him. He seemed skinnier, probably all that shitty hospital food I've heard about. It had to be injected I suppose, unless it worse than I knew.

It was quiet for a minute, then it started getting awkward. I put people _into_ hospitals, I don't normally _go_ to them. Some movies have people bringing flowers. Should I have done that?

"You aren't reading to him? I thought you did." Terrible, I know, but the best I could come up with.

"No. A nurse came by and Marty has another roommate." He gestured to the cordoned off bed with the sheet around it. "They need the quiet. And me making all the sound effects from Iron Man wasn't gonna cut it with her. Sorry, you came here for nothing." And Dave wasn't helping much. What do you say after that?

"It's okay." I hedged. "It's good for me to have come. I should have been doing it already, he's my friend too." I paused for a second and followed with. "And I can totally make better gun sounds than you." I'd heard the real thing much more than he had after all.

He chuckled and gave me a hug for that. It felt good.

"Yeah."

After a little bit longer we quietly went home. I didn't know what else to say and I think Dave took pity on me.

 **Oo0oO**

It was the evening when I got home after a burger with Dave. The duffel bag was in my closet with everything I was expecting inside it.

It was only after taking my pills and gooping myself up, that I realized that not only had Max avoided going over the papers with me, but he also used Dave to sidestep nearly an entire afternoon's effort.

Fuck did he play me like a _chump_.

Still, if he said the time was soon, well, he didn't exaggerate. From what I heard, Dave was either coming around to the idea, or worried that it might sour things between us.

It could, if he felt guilty, or ashamed of me, or saw Mindy doing the deed. Or if it wasn't good enough.

Hit Girl had to be perfect. So perfect that he couldn't see anything wrong with having me that close.

After some thought I started on the work Max had given me. My confession.

It will have to be a rooftop. I decided. People don't feel like themselves on a rooftop, so that'd be in my favor...

I schemed long into the night.


	29. Chapter 29

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 29

* * *

The days this week seemed to fly by and with it, my frustration grew.

Why, of all the weeks, with all those quiet days, why only _now_ did all these assholes come crawling out of the woodwork? Was the parole board stamper replaced with a _goddamn drinking bird_?

I swear I recognized half the bastards I brought down. What the fuck?

Allow me to summarize my week:

\- Monday: Sore throat still, Muggers mugging dumbfucks. We mugged em' back.

\- Tuesday: Rooftop stakeout. A half dozen Neo-Nazis and a Chinese run EZ-Mart. Fun, but no time to talk.

\- Wednesday: Training day. Was distracted, and Dave tagged me in a boob. Went slightly mental. Slightly mauled Dave. _Slightly_.

\- Thursday: Slack Day, Dave healing from mauling and wants his space. Perfectly understandable.

\- Friday: Got shot.  
Hmm, best I explained that.

 **Oo0oO**

It wasn't that bad. Just a few muggers, none with a gun, just a bat here and a machete there. Oh, and a bike chain, can't forget the classics.

Anyways, we spotted them, circled round and got the drop on them. Two went down easy, and I was doing a flip over the asshole with the chain to get behind him so I could work his kidney's a bit.

And then that's all I remember.

Dave filled me in afterwards.

Apparently, in _mid_ -fucking- _air_ , I got tagged by a rifle bullet. The shot was loud, and Dave, along with the muggers froze in shock.

Then Dave saw me land on a garbage pile, wheezing and spazzing and then he went a little ape-shit...

He put the muggers went down in seconds and then he dragged me out of the alleyway backwards trying to use the dumpsters as cover. Even now he was desperately looking for snipers.

Now you might be saying, "But Hit Girl, you said you switched to IIIA soft body armor a little while back. That can't stop a rifle."

And you'd be right, little falsetto voice. If the bullet was fully powered it'dve gone right through me. But it wasn't.

I came to with Dave tearing open my costume and running his hands over my chest. You'd think that'd be hot, but he was feeling the kevlar. Shame.

When he dug the bullet out, it was intact, and it was barely deformed. I'd have a bruise, but nothing major. The shot tagged me right in the diaphragm though, which explained the wheezing and spazzing. But it also clued me in as to who and why.

No one is gonna try and aim for a girl flipping in mid air, they'd wait till it was over, aim for my head and pop me. And no one would use a bullet so underpowered that it barely got dented.

Unless it was on purpose.

Fucking Max, you could'a warned me.

As soon as I could speak and not cough up a lung, I told Dave in no uncertain terms he was getting at least a vest or so help me I'd break _every fucking bone_ in his jacking hand.

And when the asshole said no, I simply upped the ante. If _he_ wouldn't wear one, _I_ wouldn't wear one. With my costume still open. I reached for the straps threateningly.

That did the job. Dave was worried as all fuck and practically draping himself over me. And he said yes.

It was sweet, though pointless, as a proper rifle round would go right the both of us and bury into the concrete.

In the end, I made him promise not to say anything about this to Marcus, and we took triple the time heading home. Ostensibly checking for more of the Motherfucker's snipers.

I didn't say a word about Dave having his arm around me, hand on my chest, even if it was on the armor.

 **Oo0oO**

Now where was I?

\- Saturday: Doctor checked me out.

If I didn't know Max was responsible before, I certainly did now.

I didn't even get a chance to speak as he whisked me in to 3C and unbuttoned my shirt, then took off the upper half of my fat suit, and then the cloth band. He clearly was expecting this.

He was swearing steadily in that language of his, quiet and sequential, like he was making a list, and I heard Max's name come up more than once. I really had to figure out what language it was, anything that could rant and swear non-stop was a language worth knowing.

He studied the bruise in the light, which looked pretty ghastly without shadows. I'd had worse, and told him so, which only made him rant even more.

Finally, he looked up from the bruise and at me for the first time. "You will be all right."

Of course I would be. Daddy made me tough. Then I realized he meant for his Sculpting. Like he cared that'd I'd be in fighting form.

He marched me over to the sink and had me wash my tits off. The Brown Jar didn't peel, and it was still hours before it'd flake into chunks. I toweled off my boobs, the novel sensation of having little boobs to towel had still not really sunk in.

Then, as was quickly becoming a routine, he gooped up one boob, the right one this time, and demonstrated this weeks motions. On my back, nipple firmly pressed down, firm circular motions with my thumb. When I had done the left one to his satisfaction, we moved onto the pills.

Two out, one in, another dozen adjusted in strength.

A small jar for the bruise. Twice a day.

And finally, the piece de' resistance. The needles.

 _Zero_.

Allow me to repeat that. Not a single fucking harpoon.

What the fuck?

I knew he had them, the fuckers hands were _twitching_ and he kept making longing glances at the far drawer where he usually dug them up.

"Why?"

His face looked like the saddest, most disappointed Nazi of all.

"None this week, Max insists that you need no distractions." His eyes narrowed. "Or excuses."

Excuses from what?

 _Oh_.

I fought down a blush.

Right.

"Hurry up and do whatever you have to do." He grunted. "My work _suffers_ when it is interrupted. Also, draw a 1 on the old Yellow Jar. With luck you might be able to reuse it in the coming months."

He brought out a waxy strip of paper. "Now lick this." Okay...

With a little bit of blood, piss and hair I was on my way, with my new pills and a new #2 Yellow Jar of goop in tow.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave was waiting for me in the waiting room, barely even noticing the triplets eyeing him like meat.

I nodded once.

The look of relief made my heart flutter a bit. The hug helped even more, despite the fat suit.

 **Oo0oO**

We didn't speak until we were in his Dad's car. And I swept for bugs.

"I'm alright. Just a big bruise. It wouldn't have been half the size if i'd I'd been in my Class III proper armor."

Or if I'd had everything properly tightened. I'd been leaving it a bit loose for the boobs to have air.

Vanity goeth before the fall I suppose.

Dave nodded and made approving sounds. Best nip that hope in the bud.

"I haven't forgotten you know. You are getting some armor. You _promised_."

There it was, the look of hope fading into despair.

Maybe I needed a monocle. I certainly was enjoying it.

 **Oo0oO**

"This," I slapped Dave's back. "Is Class IV armor. Forget handguns, forget shotguns, forget nearly all assault rifles, This'll stop 'em all."

I paused in thought. "Except for black tips. But they are way too expensive to waste on soft targets, so we likely won't run into those."

"I feel so stiff." Dave grumbled. "I can barely move."

I smiled, remembering when I'd said those exact same words to Daddy.

"Don't worry, you won't be wearing that unless we're expecting assault rifles. But, when we have to invade whatever fort the Motherfucker is holed up in, Your ass better be in it."

"You'll be wearing what I wear; either IIIA for high mobility, or just Class III which'll stop pretty much all small arms fire and still let you move and bend proper. You'll be trying both tonight."

 **Oo0oO**

We trained pretty lightly, though Dave thought it was for me. Silly Dave. I'd taken worse hits from Daddy during training against baseball bats. It's not like the scum will let you get to your feet and point out your mistakes.

I just didn't want a repeat of Wednesday. A skittish Dave is not what I want. It's the _last_ thing I want.

I didn't fight too hard when he insisted on a stakeout, though I did demand to pick the place.

It was "All-You-Can-Eat Bacon Night" after all.


	30. Chapter 30

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 30

* * *

It was quiet that first hour.

Good. Any distractions gave me an excuse not to do this.

And I had to do this, my future with Dave depended on it.

After one last sweep of the alleys to make sure there was not going to be any last minute surprises, I got ready to start. Then I froze.

I couldn't get the words out. I was too scared.

What if he said no, or was disgusted with me? What if he freaked out?

What if he left me alone?

It was two things saved me from giving up and sitting there quietly; my bruise, and my tits.

They hurt. The body armor was properly snug this time and when I twisted the bruise twinged. And my little tits were still so fucking sensitive that when they were snugly pressed against the Kevlar, properly this time, they hurt if I turned too fast.

The pain helped remind me, I wasn't a little girl. Little girls didn't have bruises from bullets hitting armor. Little girls didn't have achy tits scraping against Kevlar.

I was **Hit Girl** , and Daddy raised me to be stronger than that.

I turned to Dave slowly. "Dave..." I began. "I need to say something."

"I know things have been weird since the Brawl in Times Square." I gestured to the streets below. "The Motherfucker is stirring up more and more shit, Heroes are coming up to meet him, and there's more scum than ever. Crazy times for crazy people. And we are among them."

"I am _not_ normal. Normal people don't wear a costume and beat up scum. Normal don't get covered in red like I do unless they work at a butcher shop. I can't stand boy bands, or dolls, or _pink,_ no matter how hard Marcus tries to force it on me. I like guns and knives and armor. I like smashing cunts in their faces..."

"And I like _you_ Dave. I like you a lot, and I think it might be more."

" _Ah_ ," I held up my hand. "Let me finish."

I started to pace back and forth a bit. "I know what you're thinking, 'How the fuck would she know if it's a just a precocious crush or not?'. And I can't exactly bounce ideas off of anyone. Who could I trust?"

 **Oo0oO**

"That was terrible. Try it again."

"Oh fuck you Max, do you have any idea how hard this is?" I was red-faced and not in the mood for criticism.

The rehearsal was going poorly.

"I've guided many people to say many strange and terrible things. This doesn't even rate a four, even with your age as a factor. Now once again from the top."

" _Goddammit_!"

 **Oo0oO**

I stopped pacing and glared in his direction. "Next you are gonna say 'Why should I bother? I got Katie and her big ol' _titties_. What do you got?' And that's true."

"I know what I look like, and I know I don't have anything to offer yet. In fact, the best move would be to wait, grow a pair, and snag you when you're drunk or something."

"And I would be doing just that, waiting, if it wasn't for Marty."

 **Oo0oO**

"Perhaps you need a sounding board." Said Max, and snapped his fingers.

Kick-Ass strode into the room and stopped in front of me.

If Kick-Ass was only a little taller than me and had an oddly feminine gait.

Asian eyes peered at me through his mask.

"You _can't_ be fucking serious."

"Once more, this time not to me, but to Kick-Ass here."

 **Oo0oO**

"Marty was my wake-up call. He's lying there in the hospital in a coma, and that could be _you_." Like it'd ever happen to me. Closed casket funeral or amateur cremation had far better odds.

"You could die while I wait, you could die and leave me alone while I sit on my hands. That armor," I nodded at his chest. "that buys me some time. That raises my odds. Thank you for wearing it by the way."

I directed my gaze to his feet. "But a pipe bomb, a lucky ax swing, a _sniper_..." I rubbed my bruise slightly. "No, I can't wait. I can't wait, and I can't offer anything like what Katie can. So I have to compromise. I have to compromise a lot of things."

I took a step closer to Dave.

 **Oo0oO**

"He will likely be wearing a cup if he's at all intelligent." Max said as he watched me get on my knees in front of this Chinese Knockoff Kick-Ass. "Be careful of tugging his pants down too quickly. Things might _pinch_."

"Speaking from experience Max?" I turned and gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. I was on the lacrosse team in my youth." He rolled his eyes at me. "You only do that mistake once."

I turned back to the Asian Kick-Ass I was kneeling in front of. Embarrassing as all fuck this was, I was damn sure I wasn't going to screw this up for Dave.

I took a deep breath and stuck my hand in his pants.

Fucker was hard already.

Hard, warm, and _flaky_...?

I pulled out an egg roll.

At the gobsmacked look no doubt plastered on my face the little Asian Kick-Ass smiled. "Do not worry, I am _also_ happy to see you."

It took Max ten minutes to finally get me to stop laughing.

 **Oo0oO**

"And before I can offer that compromise, I need know something. I need to try something." I stepped closer to Dave, maintaining eye contact.

 **Oo0oO**

I met the Maid-man at the door while waiting for Max to change into Duke. He was back in his maid outfit and took the duffel bag from me quietly.

"Thank you." I said quietly.

"The prea-sure was all _mine_." He slurred his accent as he bowed to me chastely.

Then he offered me another egg roll.

That set me off again and I barely managed to keep it to quiet snickers. Hand over my mouth, I leaned towards him as my shoulders shook.

It took a minute but I managed to get control of myself.

Taking a breath, I patted him on the frilly shoulder.

Then I took my knife away from his balls. The look on his face was priceless.

He really needed to watch for that.

 **Oo0oO**

" _Please_ let me try this." Another step.

" _Please_ let me show you how far I can go. Will go." Another.

"Just for you." I was in knifing range.

" _Only_ for you." I was in grappling range.

He didn't stop me.

Looking up at him, I gave him a small smile and dropped to my knees.

He didn't say no.


	31. Chapter 31

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 31

* * *

Thank fuck my knee-pads were armored 'cause the rooftop was covered in gravel, and it wasn't the smooth kind. This was gonna be hard enough without me fighting winces and the urge to bite down.

Here I am, practically _breathing_ on his package, and I'm feeling the worst kind of stage fright, the kind with an audience of one.

Dave was looking down at me, waiting to see if I could cash the checks my mouth was writing. With my mouth.

Sorry, terrible metaphor, and I'm leaving it was a reminder to do better.

I fought to keep my hands from shaking as I tugged his pants down slowly, carefully, before reaching in.

It wasn't an egg roll this time. The thought made me smile slightly while simultaneously filling me with dread.

And then I pulled out his dick.

 **Oo0oO**

He wasn't hard.

Understandable really, I wasn't _Katie_ naked on his bed, tits on display. I was the short, flat-chested, purple-haired, pain-in-his-ass that beat the shit out of him during training. Naturally he wouldn't find my proximity to him at all arousing. Plus there was the roof, the chill air, and he could probably smell my fear. And the bacon from across the street.

He was Jewish and so he had no foreskin. That helped a bit as the majority of the porno's I had researched had cut actors as well.

It fit in my gloved hand, for now anyways. Little Dave suggested it won't stay that way.

I couldn't screw this up. I _couldn't._

I leaned forward and took him in my mouth.

It didn't taste anything like the rubber dong I practiced on. It was warm and salty from sweat and probably a bit of piss. It's not like I gave him advance warning to tidy up before I sprung this on him. Definitely an acquired taste.

I began to suck, slowly, _carefully_. I didn't know how much would hurt.

The rooftop was quiet barring the wind.

 **Oo0oO**

My anxiety grew.

Was I doing this wrong somehow? I kept bobbing my head but the lack of response was beginning to worry me. In the porno's the guys all moaning and writhing like seconds after she starts. Now I know it's gotta be at least partly acting, but didn't it feel good? If it didn't, why would guys ask for it?

Five more seconds of bobbing passed. Ten. Not a sound from Dave.

Let me say for the record, the only thing worse than being on your knees sucking dick is finding out you can't even do that right. My self-esteem was dropping like a fucking anchor. But I kept sucking, going through all the motions I'd spent the month practicing.

This had to work, it had to.

Please get hard.

 _Please_...

My hands, which had drifted up to his hips to help me keep steady, felt him twitch, then tremble.

A low moan forced itself out of his lips. I could feel it literally in his dick.

The amount of relief I was experiencing was like nothing I had ever felt. He _liked_ this! He liked _me_!

He started to grow and get hard in my mouth. This was familiar, thanks to all the practice on Little Dave. After a minute with him at full mast I'd try some of the things I'd seen done.

It was then that I discovered a slight snag. Max had gotten the length bang on, but the girth, the thickness... Yeah he'd underestimated it a bit. I'm glad I wasn't looking up at him (Max suggested him not seeing my face doing it would help him accept it easier.), if I was, he'd see the panicked look on my face as he swelled.

I abandoned any notions of showing off anything as I had a new immediate priority. Don't scrape him with my teeth.

 **Oo0oO**

As the first minute transitioned into the second, I started to understand why it was called a blow'job'. You couldn't just lie there like a prom queen and just take it. I was starting to feel exertion, like this was an exercise.

And the sounds, _holy fuck_ the sounds his dick and my mouth made.

 _Obscene_ was the word. And obscene it was.

I could feel bits of my pride screaming at me, reviling the state I was in, and hating the sounds I was making.

God I felt disgusting.

But it didn't matter, so long as it got me Dave I'd do it. I was tough, I could take even this.

Speaking of the other half of this obscene play, Dave was entirely at my mercy. He was gasping like I'd knee'd him in the solar plexus, and his hands were gripping the rail behind him so hard I could hear his gloves creak. And I was certain that his situational awareness was so low that a team of football players could run past and he wouldn't notice.

It was an interesting sensation of power I was holding over him. I've held men's lives in my hands but not like _this_...

One of my hands drifted from his hip to gently cup his balls.

I've kicked these, shot them, even cut a pair off a particularly nasty kiddie fucker and shoved them in his fucking jowls, but I've never fondled these before. I gave them a gentle squeeze and was rewarded with Dave bucking his hips with a groan. A new taste was on my tongue, pre-cum was the regular term.

A taste of things to come.

I didn't like it, but then I hadn't expected to, despite what all those ladies said in the videos. It was slimy, and gross, and the taste left a LOT to be desired. And a load of it was coming if I kept my pace up.

I sucked harder.

 **Oo0oO**

By the third minute my face was starting to sweat, my jaw was aching and his hips were writhing. My hands were both back on his hips, keeping things steady.

The ache showed me that I'd had a weakness in my practice. I never had my jaws open this wide, and, I took frequent breaks after a minute or two of practice. Also, despite my best efforts, bits of drool were trailing on my chin, making me feel even filthier.

I couldn't stop and massage my jaw, much as I wanted to, but there had to be something I could do.

Then I had an idea.

I slowly pulled back, further and further, until only the head was in my mouth.

Inhaling a deep breath with my nose, I slowly and smoothly moved forward. As I did I shifted my hands from holding his hips to sliding down and gripping the backs of his thighs.

He hit the back of my mouth, and I forced him to keep going. Those last two inches went _in_.

My nose was in his pubes, and I felt his balls press against my chin. Most importantly, the ache slowly eased in my jaw.

Also, he must of liked it as he gave off a guttural moan and his hands left the rail he was holding on. He almost, _almost_ , gripped my head before he forced his hands back on the rail.

As for me, I was trying desperately not to choke. That was my fucking mantra that I repeated to myself over and over again.

Don't _choke_.  
Don't you _dare_ fucking choke.  
You know exactly how long you can hold your breath, Daddy took you to the pool to test you.  
Just a little bit longer and he'll come, then it's over.  
Just don't choke.

His pubes were irritating my nose, and I fought the urge to sneeze. To help make it go away, I swallowed, and Dave _really_ liked that, so I did it again and again.

Then I felt his balls tighten against my chin...

 **Oo0oO**

One really common thing I had noted in all the porno's I watched was that the guys balls tightened up before the blew their load. It was so common I didn't even bother to make it a note, that's just what they did.

Dave was no exception.

With a harsh grunt Dave came in my mouth. I could feel it travel with my tongue pressed against his dick, and I could feel the head pulse in my throat.

I swallowed, and then again. It was warm, and the smell of it traveled up to fill my sinuses.

It was terrible, and I could feel something _howling_ in the back of my mind.

After half a minute the pulsings stopped. As I pulled back, the head popping out of my throat was enough to coax a bit more to coat my tongue. So much for avoiding the taste of it.

It tasted worse than the smell, and I knew that, if he took me up on this, I'd be tasting it an awful lot.

The _howling_ in my head was getting worse, and my hands trembled as they switched from gripping his thighs to holding his hips.

As the cock left my mouth a final driblet landed on my lips. A _whore's_ lipstick. _My_ lipstick.

The _howling_ was unbearable.

As my hands pulled up his pants, he realized that was his cue to collapse. He slid downwards until his ass was on the gravel. His head lolled back between the bars of the railing and he was deaf to the world.

He was helpless. A part of me wanted to kill him _so badly_.

In his state he wouldn't even feel it.

I could do it before he ever focused his eyes on me and saw what I'd done, how I _looked_.

That _howling_ part of me wanted him to end it so dearly. _He_ had dirtied something _Daddy_ had made, so _he_ had to _die_.

But Daddy was dead. _Dead_. And now I was with Dave.

I wiped my face on the back of my gloved hand and made a decision.

 **Oo0oO**

I straddled his lap like I did not so long ago. My hands wrapped around him in a hug, and I brought my face next to his ear-hole in his mask.

" _Thank you_." I whispered.

That was harder to do than anything else. _Everything else_. Sucking a dick was easy in comparison. But to thank him?

Something deep inside me started to break off and die. I hadn't felt that since I watched my first pedo bleed out. Dave was slumped nearly the same way she was back then, only Dave wasn't bleeding out from a knife in the liver.

"Thank you for letting me try that." I continued, one hand leaving his back to caress the back of his head. "Now we both know how far I can go. Will go."

"This is my compromise; I can't have all of you, I'm nowhere near as good as Katie yet." _Yet_. "All I have is my mouth, for now anyways..."

"So, Katie gets Dave. But," my whispering became a croon, "Kick-Ass _gets_ Hit Girl."

I smiled slightly, though he couldn't see it. "Your ass is already mine in training and patrols anyway, it's only fair that you get mine in return."

I pressed myself a bit harder against him, but not grinding yet.

"When the mask and wig are on, and I'm sure it's not going to put us at risk, I'm yours."

He was wide awake now and I could feel him start to stir. My hand stopped caressing the back of his head and held it firmly. "Hit Girl," my croon became a promise. "Will be your. Personal. _Cunt_."

I've used that word a thousand times, but only now did it feel filthy.

" _Anytime_." I moaned into his ear like a whore. " _Anywhere_."

I could feel him starting to get hard again, pressed against me, but I couldn't ruin this by letting him fuck me. I remembered the folders of those three dead men.

Dave was, I think, struggling on whether to grab me and throw me on the ground, or throw me off and just _run_. Maybe he even wanted to jump, though at this height, he probably wouldn't die unless he landed head first. I'd go with him of course if he did.

Deciding for him, I rose from my knees to my feet. My cunt was practically eye level with his face. It was on purpose of course, Max never let things go to chance.

"Think about it." And I walked towards the duffel bag which had three items I wanted dearly.

A bottle of water, a towel, and breath mints. _Strong ones_.

The first scenario was complete.

 **Oo0oO**

By the time Dave joined me all evidence of my deed was gone. My face was clean, my mouth washed out, and I'd eaten a half-dozen mints.

I still thought I could taste it though. _Smell_ it.

Did Dave smell it on me? His cum?

He didn't say a word, and walked towards the fire escape.

I followed with duffel bag in tow.

Looks like the stakeout was ending early.

 **Oo0oO**

We rode home in silence. There was nothing to say anyway.

I'd offered, and he'd either take me up on it, or... well we'll see what happens.

I still had that grenade after all.

 **Oo0oO**

I snuck into my room silently. Marcus couldn't know I came home early, or he'd start asking questions. And right now I really didn't want to be talking about anything.

As I thought, He had been in my room again, unless the Maid-man was suddenly struck by a bout of sloppiness.

No bugs, at least that I could find with the sweepers.

My room had been checked, possibly for more guns, but now my paranoia was spiking _hard_.

My diary, the regular one, had been opened. I'd have to write into it tonight saying it was a routine stakeout and nothing happened. Maybe mention a possible gang-banger in a car two hours later than now. Best to muddy the waters.

My computer had been touched. The mouse was moved, and a hair was out of place.

What had Marcus been looking for?

On a hunch I went to my bottom drawer. The little pink dildo had been moved slightly.

I opened the false bottom. And everything...was still there.

Two Yellow Jars, one Brown. The pills, the bruise cream, And the papers, all one-fifty of them.

 **Oo0oO**

Monday was coming but I couldn't sleep.

I was too used to the hours I normally kept and I had one more to go before I'd be home from patrol.

I was alone with my thoughts, and I could still taste Dave on my tongue, despite the mints.

I still didn't like it.

All in all, it hadn't been very pleasant, just as Max had warned. I sucked Dave off, and, with luck, that would be the foot in the door.

One jizzy _mouthful_ at a time. I frowned at that.

Remembering the little pink vibrator, I went and grabbed it, and held it up to my face. It was small, smooth, and just a little bit thicker than my finger. I switched it on with a quiet buzz.

If I didn't like it, then I would just have to _make_ myself like it.

I stuck it in and thought about Dave and how he tasted.


	32. Chapter 32

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 32

* * *

On Monday we went on patrol.

Dave was wearing his vest, checking his blind spots like he was supposed to, and relying on me like he should.

It was so... normal.

You'd think I never went down on the guy.

And you'd think that wouldn't sting like it did.

And it's not like I could start a conversation about this. ' _Hey Kick-Ass, about that cock sucking thing I did_...'

 _Ugh_ , just _ugh_.

Sadly, no scum came out for me to vent my growing frustration that night.

 **Oo0oO**

Max was indifferent to my suffering.

"It's to be expected." he said, voice tinny in the laptop's speaker. "You have after all introduced a carnal aspect to your relationship that he never expected."

The camera wasn't on because I wasn't wearing a shirt, and, with Max, that wasn't something he wanted waved in his face.

"So, what should I do?"

"As Hit Girl, do nothing to accost him, it is imperative he must approach you. Be professional, confident, and most of all be patient."

"And if he doesn't 'approach me'? What then?" Approach sounded so much better than 'want some suckin'.

"Then we introduce another incentive to Dave."

I didn't like the sound of that. The first incentive involved my knee-pads after all.

He must have sensed my unease over the microphone as he decided to explain. "Look," he began. "You have placed Dave in a position where he can do a great deal of harm to your relationship if he says or does the wrong thing. That was why I told you to use the words 'Think about it' instead of demanding an immediate answer."

He paused and I could hear the platter of his teacup. "He knows this, and is thankfully approaching the issue with more maturity than I expected from him. It wouldn't have been good if he immediately accepted your offer."

"I thought the goal was to get Dave in my bed." I retorted hotly.

"No, the goal is to seduce him, remember?" He countered. "Had he pressed you for more on that rooftop I would have had you immediately pull back and have started work on a different scenario."

"Why?" That didn't make sense. That's what I wanted, wasn't it?

"It'd introduce several possible items that were not expected, given the information I had acquired. The least of which would be that Dave was a psychopath fitting the Triarchic model to a T."

The thought was _chilling_. I've had to put down quite a few of them in my time with Daddy. They were always tricky. "What would have given you that impression?" I said carefully. Dave, a psychopath? That's not something to fucking joke about.  Ever.

"Because he would have immediately realized that you were placing yourself into a position of vulnerability and he would have exploited it. Then everything he'd done in the past wouldn't have been heroic, but calculated to benefit his Machiavellian Egocentricity."

"Don't fucking joke about that Max, Dave isn't..." I paused, thinking hard.

"Isn't what? Fearless? Practically immune to stressful situations and effects? Has trouble planning and lacks understanding of long term consequences? Dressing up like a superhero practically radiates impulsive nonconformity. I could go on."

"Please don't." How many signs did he have? I knew exactly how many I had, Daddy made sure I knew what I was becoming. It was all part of my training. But, had I missed Dave?

Then the rest of what he said really sunk in.

"You said the least was that." I noted, frowning. "What could be _worse_ than that?"

"In my experience psychopaths are remarkably easy to manage. Given my occupation and profession I have dealt with many of them. While I haven't had to romantically accost one, it would be likely a smooth process."

"Now what would be worse than that would be him being fully psychotic instead."

As my mind went over the implications of _that_ nightmare, his tone changed from his usual cold and dry, to almost cheerful. "Now, with all of that, do you find him treating you professionally to be all that bad?"

When he put it that fucking way.

Our conversation drifted over to how Mindy was to be presented now that I had pushed Hit Girl into the limelight.

Then, with a little goop and pills, I called it a night.

 **Oo0oO**

Mindy continued to be a non-entity at school, though Jessi and Angela were the only ones who really noticed or cared. I did well academically such as it was, and my gym grade was frozen thanks to the doctors note, and finals were soon.

After that, where should I go from there? So many possibilities, each with their benefits and drawbacks.

And throughout the week, be it training, patrolling, or hanging out in Atomic Comics, I kept a careful eye on Dave. Max had twigged my paranoia senses awful hard.

He didn't approach me for more kneeling action, didn't cop a feel, didn't ask for a kiss.

And for that week that was fine.


	33. Chapter 32-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 32-Secret Diary

* * *

Hello Max,

Should you be reading this, I am either dead, or your Maid has torn this from me in what was no doubt an epic battle.

I figured it out.

Part of what gave it away was the fact that you directed the computer stuff to someone else. No one is good at everything, and even I am at best only average with the things.

But, since you did get the work outsourced, they did something you wouldn't ever do.

They were _obvious_.

It was the little things at first, my sloppily redacted paperwork wasn't something you would ever do, and I know Dr. Bildhauer wouldn't ever cut instructions like that, and that lead me to wondering what else was being cut.

When I marched into the Doc's office with a hand grenade, I got a printout and a zipped up copy in my email. It took _ten minutes_ to print.

I never ever mentioned that I had a USB and ten minutes alone on his machine now did I?

The USB stick was a tiny thing, for school work really, but I never used it and it languished in the bottom of my pen bag in the back of my locker. I only recalled having it during my panic attacks about my leaking tits.

If you are wondering why you never found it in all the tossings of my room, it's because I tossed it in a dime bag and kept it in my panties, or in a sock when I slept. It never left my person.

So I kept a copy, and I printed it out in the library, on one of the machines that gets wiped every week because all the little bastards do is look at porn and get the machine horribly infected. Plus my time in the library had numbed my presence tot he Librarian, and when she went to the bathroom it was easy to do.

With a second copy of the papers available, I tossed it in an empty binder and tucked it away behind the dull history books that the boys passed over in their hunt in the art books looking for the fabled naked boob. The dust alone would alert me if someone had been by.

And after that Sunday at the hospital, I took the copy you had placed in my new duffel bag and I compared it to my originals.

It was missing almost fifty pages, again too obvious. They could have increased the font size or double spaced to make up for the missing pages. Hell, us kids learn to do that with book reports in school for fucks sake.

Now I knew exactly which pages to look at.

It was scary fucking stuff, most of it I didn't understand, but some I did.

I am also fairly certain that you had someone go in my room and check for copies on that day I sucked off Dave, and you were hoping I'd blame it on Marcus.

According to the clock, while I was sucking Dave's dick, my email was opened using my computer and the attached copy of all the papers was replaced. Now my password wasn't the best, but it should have taken a little while to get it. That means that you have something on my computer as well...

You even went into my little computer diary you gave me and edited my journal so it'd say a hundred and fifty pages instead of two hundred.

Too bad it's all for nothing though.

I know about the glands Max.

The question is, what should I do with all this? You clearly have a route you want me to follow, but is that what I want?

What do I want?

That's easy. I want Dave. I want to be the closest thing to him. Like I was to Daddy.

And if your route doesn't take me there? Well, then I'll go my own way, take my own steps.

Whatever it takes.


	34. Chapter 33

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 33

* * *

The Saturday of the first weekend of May loomed, and the Doctor wanted me in early and to bring Yellow Jar #1.

This conflicted with Dave just dropping me off and heading over to his own Doc like we usually did. So, we decided to make the most of the morning, then he'd drop me off and 'take care of things' which was probably codewords for 'go and fuck Katie'.

By then my paranoia senses calmed down and I was pretty damn certain Dave wasn't a psycho. Rather, the bad kind of psycho.

So, on the one hand I was not happy about things, but on the other hand we did decide to make the most of the morning and get stuff done together, even if I was in the fat suit.

First, new phones.

 **Oo0oO**

"A burner phone" I explained to Dave while browsing the mall kiosk. "Is a phone you can toss if it gets burned."

"The name _does_ give it away a bit." He noted, looking at the specs of one phone and comparing it to another.

I rapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Pay attention. I'm trying to _learn_ you a bit here."

He finally turned to look at me, much to the bemusement of the teen running the kiosk, who had long passed being so bored out of his mind that even his phone had nothing left to offer.

"Drug dealers, pimps, goons, and assorted trash do this to reduce the ability to pin things on them if and when they get busted. Now we, _who are not doing anything illegal_ ," I gave the Kiosk mook a stern look. "Do not have to change them as often. The only problem is that our, hmm, _extracurricular activities_ , we do run the risk of them getting damaged. And they come with certain features you do not want on."

"Should we be discussing this out loud?" Wondered Dave, looking at the mall-goers with some concern.

"They don't give two tugs of a dead dogs cock what we say as long as we aren't in their way." I pointed out, drawing a choke out of the Kiosk mook. Honestly, he looked to be older than Dave, a bit of language shouldn't shock him so.

Did pudgy looking girls not swear or something? "Thus we can get something a bit more high-tech."

"Admit it, you just want a fancy smartphone." Teased Dave.

And I did. Flip phones blew chunks for texting, and the sneers of the other kids when I whipped out the thing was irritating. Plus I was supposed to be a pudgy nerd girl. That meant a good phone and being on it all the time. And yes, I wanted one, but I'll be _damned_ if I actually admit it to Dave.

"This can be remedied often at the kiosk in question, depending on how busy they are." I continued on, ignoring the jibe.

The kiosk was dead aside of us, at this hour most of the mall was dead aside of old people who were only mostly dead.

"First, since this is a burner phone we are getting, It must be paid in cash." I whipped out a large wad withdrawn from the stash.

That certainly got the Kiosk goon's attention.

"Second, you make sure you have a vendor who is amendable to additional service requests." He certainly looked interested, he was nodding quite rapidly. "Things like not bothering with putting us on a plan, not getting our names correct, or at all." Mindy Ching and David Chang were dutifully put in the system.

"Now this will cost him any commission he was going to make. But assure him that he will be making a little extra on the side."

He didn't seem upset at that, hard to say why.

"Then you pay him to remove the little GPS unit if he's technically capable." He was.

"Then you pay him a little more to replace the stock phone's system with something nice and encrypted. That leaves you one final thing to take care of. And it is..." I put a hand by my ear and waited for an answer.

Dave either didn't know, or was too amused to answer.

"SIM cards." Whispered the Kiosk goon, whose name I still didn't know. "Then you can keep the phone and toss the old SIM card every month."

" _Exactly_." I said cheerfully. "And at a hundred bucks a SIM card, a dozen each for us should do."

The Kiosk goon wheezed a bit there. I think we'd be paying him more than he made in a month or three.

"And he'll get the cash in _how_ much time?" I asked gently.

"An hour, easy." He was already closing the kiosk so he wouldn't be disturbed.

"Excellent. Then the next step is clear!" I gestured. "Smoothies from that there fine beverage stand, and then we shop for stuff while we wait."

Finally, after a week of nothing but a professional Kick-Ass and a withdrawn Dave, finally I heard him laugh and relax a little bit.

Silly Dave, I won't bite, not unless you ask me to.

 **Oo0oO**

We split up after grabbing our drinks and agreed to be back here in an hour. No sense boring each other with any miscellaneous crap that needed to be getting, like socks, or spare aglets, sinister as they were. While Dave wandered off, probably to the nearest Atomic Comic's competitor, purely for research purposes no doubt, I made a quick bee-line the nearest department store.

I was bra hunting. There in the ladies section I grabbed two of them. I knew my band size easily enough, so it was easy to pick them out. They were plain, white, with front clasps. One was an A cup, the next a B.

These weren't for wear, I kept them strapped down enough at school and in training and on patrol after all. No, these were for _measuring_.

It's not like there were tit-scales you could buy.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave hadn't gone to the comics store as I thought, he had in fact wandered eventually into the same store I was. He'd bought a few shirts, some jogging pants, some shorts, all in all good stuff to wear while being thrown about. He was getting a bit threadbare there.

We picked up our phones and paid a fair bit of cash, but it was a worthwhile investment. The phones were in some sort of protective case (Beaver Case or some such), and we had a bag of cords, spare SIMs, and other such sundries.

Finally I could save my high scores on my games!

 **Oo0oO**

I had to be dropped off at the Doc two hours early. I assured Dave that it was a final checkout of the leg that I knew was fine, and he assured me he was going to just head home and play with his phone.

Two lies in one conversation, me with the leg, and Dave with Katie.

It didn't bug me as much as it should have, but this week was just strange all around. Strange, tense, and awkward.

 **Oo0oO**

With the Doc having two extra hours, I was expecting fifty needles and a roto-rooter up my ass till he could see the back of my teeth, at _least_.

I had missed a week after all. And as he said, my treatments _suffered_ so without his _gentle_ hand guiding me.

Note to self, italics don't really work for sarcasm.

Still, when I marched into 3C and saw what was in his hand, I think I would have preferred the roto-rooter.

It was his camera.

 **Oo0oO**

I took off my shirt, the top half of the fat suit, and the cloth band.

"One month, plus a single, relatively inactive initial week, of progress."

I washed off the Brown Jar's goop in his sink, then toweled my tits off.

"Normally I'd do this quarterly, but with your case being so special it's _much_ better that this be a monthly thing. Progress must be _measured_."

My hands reached for my jeans, then for my lower half of the fat-suit.

"It must be _savored_."

Then my panties. My hands barely shook this time.

"Let's begin."

 **Oo0oO**

Once again, over the course of an hour he took photos of everything. Top of the scalp to the bottom of my feet.

Then he spent the next half hour showing me with old and new photos what had changed.

\- I was now a quarter inch taller and about eight pounds heavier. Sadly this wasn't four pounds per boob, but it wasn't flab. I was just... a little bit more in places.

\- Speaking of boobs, mine are now one and three-eighths of an inch off of my chest. Solid A's and on the way to B. Nipples still really young looking.

\- Hips are a touch wider, but the Doc warned me that I wasn't going to flare into Hartman hips anytime soon. Apparently Dave's tastes weren't for that and my genetics didn't lean that way neither.

\- I have a little bit of butt now. Again, I was told I wasn't going to be a milkshake shaker, but, I mean _however_ , I've gone from having having the ass of a bony ten-year-old boy to the ass of a a ten year old girl. Progress is progress.

\- The cunt, well I'm not exactly going to put it to words here, or anywhere, but progress I guess. I wasn't getting any smaller.

\- Muscle was up a bit, especially in my back. That means more swinging power. Note to self, Dave, some armor, and a bat.

\- Fat, almost none aside of the obvious masses I was cultivating. It was there the Doc said, but it was well distributed. Apparently I was dangerously under-fatted if that is the term, and it would have lead to serious issues in a year's time when puberty formally left the gates. I was apparently _too_ lean a lean mean cunt kicking machine. I'm sure if Daddy was alive he would have taken steps for this.

\- Hair, a bit longer. Almost time for a trim to stuff it under the wig. I'll hack at it at some point this month. Everywhere else was bare, but the Doc was expecting that. Apparently Superheroines and most Superheros got zapped with a laser hair removal ray before their first pair of spandex. Except for Wolverine, 3 Batmans, and Cheetah.

 **Oo0oO**

All in all, it was actually kind of good to see side by side comparisons of things. Before and After, like in the late night video ads. Only I knew exactly how much it cost for "results in one month" with no money back.

It went from a cringing hour of self-loathing as the flashes kept snapping on the digital camera, tits and cunt on display, into a quietly positive dialogue as I saw _where_ was improving, _how_ it was improving, and a reasonable idea of _what_ was to be expected in the next month.

He wasn't judging me, or criticizing me, he was _happy_ for me, that I was closer to _our_ goal. This was better, that was better, those were bigger.

Plus he spent some of that time telling me of future possible issues, well in advance, and how to deal with them.

That would have been frigging excellent to have in those scary times.

Naturally all that good cheer dissolved when he brought out the needles, at least on my end, but he did try to explain their purpose a bit, and he actually _apologized_ for the number, but did remind me that I had missed a week.

A baker's dozen.

I won't say where they all went, but for three of them I had to lie back and think of England for a bit.

 **Oo0oO**

It was interesting, when the Doc was in a good mood, he _actually_ listened to my problems.

Like this one.

If _five_ needles boot-fucked me proper, how bad would _thirteen_ do? I couldn't always let Sunday be the slack day, scum will notice the patterns.

He listened and gave it some thought, before coming back with a small unlabeled bottle. His face was dire.

"These," he shook the bottle gently, "are very _very_ dangerous. You will use them sparingly. Do not mix with alcohol. One tonight, and one every twelve hours on Sunday, as needed. There are seven here, but you will not need more than three. They are extremely habit forming if taken in excess. They take a half hour to take effect."

He handed it to me. "And yes there is a reason why you have seven of them. It is a matter of trust." He looked sternly at me. "I will not coddle you Mindy. I am not sculpting a common bombshell, I am sculpting a Superheroine and I expect that to be in character as well. If you abuse these or try to use them to emulate your friend Dave, I will not give you any more. And, if you seek alternative means for a fix, I will know by a single blood test. And then this sculpting will stop. No matter what Max promises, or any amount of money you could offer me."

"Three at most, means this is for two weeks." I noted, and he nodded at that. "What's the seventh one for?"

"In case you lose one, or for emergencies. Life is seldom as neat as my work."

 **Oo0oO**

After that was the new goop. The old Yellow Jar #1 mixed with a new compound. It was runnier, slightly oily, and had to be rubbed in the whole boob for about ten minutes each. No UV needed. So twenty minutes if I had a sandwich, or ten if I went all Two-Fisted-Monkey-Technique on them.

And I'd alternate it with the left over Yellow Jar #2 for the rest of this week.

Some pills were shuffled out, and new ones shuffled in, some got bigger, one got smaller, and alongside them was the ominous little bottle.

 **Oo0oO**

I met Dave at the Pharmacy, though I wasn't picking up any Jars or pills this week. I only really needed to do it every now and then to impress upon Dave or Marcus the seriousness.

He was grumbling and rubbing the other shoulder this time, and he had to refill his pills again.

 _One_ needle to _thirteen_ motherfucker! _Three_ pills to _thirty-five_! Dave gets the tampon for the third week in a row!

Then we went to see Marty.

And I was right again, I could do better gun sounds. Dave could barely mimic a .357 where I could go from a Beretta 92 all the way to a Winchester 2200.

I think it impressed Dave. Or it scared him a bit. Hard to say.

 **Oo0oO**

Dinner with Marcus was fine, mostly cause I was feeling better about myself and wasn't douching the meal up with my sulking like I had for most of this week. He even asked politely about where we were heading to and if there was something he should be looking for to help out.

Had I known he'd be so amendable when he was feeling guilty, I'dve led it to him earlier.

Though I didn't know what to make of his expression, he was concerned about something, but I don't know what.

 **Oo0oO**

I checked for bugs in my room after my shower. Nothing, so it wasn't that which had Marcus worried. Something to ponder for later. I had a lot to deal with at the moment.

First, my two new bras. The A-cup fit well, almost snugly if one had an ego, and looking at myself in the mirror I felt almost... girlish. I think that's the word. I certainly didn't feel like Mindy 'tunk-kicker' McCready, or Hit Girl in it. It lacked the Kevlar weave I was used to.

I tried the B-cup, and yeah, plenty of room to spare. But just give me time...

 **Oo0oO**

New goop, new pills, and one scary pill. I did my boobs one at a time, leaving my other hand free to use the mouse, no sense being bored out of my skull. My mind was busy, despite the porno I was watching.

I had to plan carefully. Dave had finally relaxed around me, just as Max said he would, but that means if things also went as he said, then I'd have a month tops before I'd be back on my knees.

That first time seriously shook me up. The best laid plans of mice and men indeed.

At one point I'll really have to thank Max, and actually sincerely too. If I had just bullied my way forward, or hell, tried to give him a blowjob without practice to push enough of my mind away from it, I might have hurt or even _killed_ him. _Killed Dave_.

At this point, Dave was like Daddy, I just couldn't see a world without him. And if I lost him too, it'd be bad. _Real_ bad.

So, I made a little list on the little laptop.

\- Work on throat. No Choking risks.  
\- Work on ache, five minutes +.  
\- Do something better with my hands.

I'd add more to this as I thought about it.

On to practice.

 **Oo0oO**

Frowning, I looked down at Little Dave in my hands. Not thick enough. The lamentation of half the women on the internet so far as I could tell.

A quick email on the little computer should fix that.

 **Max, Practice D not thick as Dave, send suitable replacement. - M**

There, that's dealt with.

I still practiced carefully. I had time to spare while I waited for the new goop to dry.


	35. Chapter 33-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 33-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:I have edited this a bit. Not sure if I will be keeping it, or going with plan B. C. Whatever._

 _The current plan was to run the Regular story and the Secret Diary in parallel. But I may decide to trim them off, let the regular story happen, and then dump the lot of them as an aftereffect._

 _I shall decide this in a bit._

* * *

When we got new burner phones, I pushed Dave into getting the fanciest ones we could. Money wasn't a problem, we paid in cash, and, after pressing a some money onto the kiosk minion, we had ourselves access to spare SIM cards so we could toss those away as needed.

Side note: Max, if you were trying to hunt down which mall to shake down the Kiosk goon for which things were added to the phone, it wasn't the closest one. Just saying.

Voila! I have a new diary, one that should be safe from prying eyes. I got a little Bluetooth keyboard and I'm typing this on it right now. An encrypted copy of this is also stored somewhere online in case I lose this machine for whatever reason. And this one wipes if you type the password wrong twice, even though it says you have three. The minion got an extra fifty from me for doing that.

So, now I have one diary for Marcus about my typical day and precocious crush, one for Max to snoop on while he helps me get Dave alongside whatever irons he has in the fire, and one just for me, well, unless I die or something.

Diaries A, B, and C.

I'm glad my hands don't cramp easily. But that comes with the ability to crush a trachea I suppose.

 **Oo0oO**

Now the Doc wanted to see me early, hence why Dave grabbed me early and we went shopping.

He dropped me off, went to spend an hour or two with Katie, and then would go to his own meeting and meet up with me after.

Plenty of time for me to keep working on the Doc.

I needed him on my side after all.

 **Oo0oO**

After watching his enthusiasm with the photos and my improvements, and the callous disregard he had for Max, I figured the easiest way to get info from him would be to simply catch him in a good mood and bluntly ask.

And he was in a very good mood after the photos he took. And the needles, but I can't really blame him for that.

After all, who wouldn't wanna stick things in me?

...Yeah that was lame. And as punishment it's sitting there for me to look at forever. That'll learn me.

Anyways, after the needles, he had made me lick another waxy sheet, and now I knew why. To see if the Glands were working. But what did they do?

I broached the subject as casually as I could.

"So Doc, how are the glands looking?"

 _Subtle_ , I know.

"Hmm? They should be working well, at least the active ones anyways. Now, as for the new treatment this week, you'll be applying this revised Yellow Jar #1..."

He paused, before actually looking at me. "If I recall correctly, Max wasn't going to tell you about those for some reason." he frowned, trying to remember something as trivial as that. "Something about you misusing them or some rubbish. "The active ones are meant to be used. That's why they are active after all."

"Meh," I shrugged, noting absently that it still felt weird to watch -and feel- them jiggle that little bit that they had. I never had anything jiggle anywhere before. "I think he wanted my acting to be more authentic or something."

"Perhaps, but if you had full knowledge you could maximize their benefits-"

"Doctor Bildhauer," I interrupted, using his name for the first time ever. He actually snapped to attention at that. "If I had your warnings back then I wouldn't have been freaking out in the slightest. You gave me a page and a half about that, Max…" I sneered. "gave me one fucking line." He showed me just how pitiful my sneer was by brandishing his own. That takes breeding and class.

"After I got you to give me a copy of everything, I tried my best to understand as much as possible. I don't have that much understood, but I am trying. With the glands, all I really understand is that I have them, some are active," That I just picked up from the Doc himself. "And that it's similar to the Castilians job Max orchestrated a while back."

I was guessing, taking what I could recall from my earliest meetings with Max.

Thankfully the Doc bought it.

"Ah, those were the days. That one got me my reputation, and it paid the way for me and my family to come to America." He smiled slightly, carefully.

"I tell you what, I'll tell you about it while I show you this week's application." And he stepped behind me, gloves shining with chemicals.

 **Oo0oO**

The Doc talked as he rubbed the new jar in. It was much thinner than the regular goop and needed to be rubbed in thoroughly, the whole boob.

I never mentioned it prior, I couldn't on a possibly compromised machine, but getting the Doc to 'show me' each application rather than look at pictures on a printout was probably the best initial step I could take to getting influence over him these past few weeks.

Despite his assurances that he wasn't interested in fucking his patients, he equated it to fucking a sandwich you'd put together, he was a man and he had a dick, and he lingered just a bit too much to be professional.

He wasn't Dave so I wasn't exactly happy about it, but it let me nudge things in the directions I desired. Like getting info Max didn't want me to know, or, maybe when things have progressed a bit further, to get a little extra done without him knowing.

Anything to win.

 **Oo0oO**

The Castilians were a Mob family, and they owned a small town utterly. Anyone foreign to the town in was scrutinized by the locals more out of fear of failing to report than any loyalty. And punishments were harsh.

Max was tasked in ending them. And to do it he needed an in.

He went in as a photographer and roamed the town for two weeks, taking photos of everything. And on the tenth day he found just what he needed.

A young boy weeping at his parents grave. A fresh grave.

His approach was straightforward, he couldn't do anything here, so he'd arrange to bring someone out.

The boy was staying with relatives, and hated the Castilians enough to take a risk. Especially when offered a thousand American dollars, which was a lot of money those days.

The boy ran away and met Max in the much larger city nearby.

"And then the boy met me a bit later." He said, giving my nipple a tweak as he fondly relived the past.

"He was spared because the Don had a fondness for young boys, if you get my meaning."

Oh I did, fucker probably would get the jowl treatment from me. With one boob done but the story not, the Doc switched to do the other and continued.

Now, the Don had a bit of a heart problem, and several sons who'd murder each other for a bowl of pasta. He had to travel to the larger city every now and then to visit a specialist, so it wasn't hard for Max to find out what medications he was taking.

And then all he needed was a genius who could make the boy into a chemical bomb.

"In other words, me." Bildhauer said proudly, squeezing me far more than medically necessary.

After two weeks of carefully coaching and dosing the boy to the gills, he got 'caught' by a police officer and sent back to the town.

The Don barely waited a day, and the boy accepted to spare his remaining family. A night of sodomy followed.

"And from prolonged contact with the boys anus and mouth came the binary compound. It mixed with his medication and gave him quite the unpleasant heart attack. The boy probably enjoyed that immensely."

The other boob was done, but he hadn't noticed.

"Now, they couldn't actually admit that the Don died mid-coitus with a ten year old. But he hadn't had a clear favorite to inherit, mostly to prevent them from ganging up on said favorite. But the boy claimed that the Don had told him which son was to inherit with his dying breath."

And, in private, the boy told each of them that the another brother was chosen. A was told B, B was told C, and C was told A. Then he killed himself so he couldn't be questioned afterward. The perfect revenge.

"The town was in ruins in less than a month due to inter-family war." The Doc said fondly, wheezing almost happily. "The boy got all the revenge he ever wanted. Revenge against the Don, his organization, and the town that just sat there and let his parents die. I got my first million, Max got whatever Max got, and the Castilians were no more."

 **Oo0oO**

My nipples were both well past perked up thanks to his hand, but I pretended not to notice. He'd not let go either.

"That was an incredible story!" I said enthusiastically as I could while reaching for his other wrist. "But tell me, what does that have in common with my glands?" I gently guided his other hand to my free boob.

"Isn't it obvious? Binary compounds! Though you aren't a boy and there's no plans for a murder/suicide."

And then he told me.

 **Oo0oO**

Afterwards I was in a daze as I wandered towards the pharmacy.

Holy shit.

 _Holy fucking shit!_

I won't even bother writing about my thoughts now, I need a day, maybe two to really process it and think of what to do.

Though I could barely suppress a shuddering thrill when I saw Dave rubbing his other shoulder.

 **Oo0oO**

I was pretty much on autopilot till I got to my room. The other diary covered pretty much everything of importance there.

The only thing I need to add to it, aside of the fact that I frigged myself senseless before I slept, was that now that I knew this, my future with Dave was looking to be one wild ride, even if I was gonna be on my knees a lot.


	36. Chapter 34

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 34

 _Author's note: I think I abused the italics and underline a bit much here. :'o_

 _If it's too distracting, let me know in a review and I'll trim a few off._

* * *

I woke up and _nothing_ hurt.

Considering how all my Sunday mornings thus far usually started up, that was one hell of a big improvement. _Huge_.

Getting out of bed I took stock of myself. I didn't feel itchy, nothing ached, hell, I didn't even feel the urge to stretch.

I did feel a bit... fuzzy, I guess the word would be. But I wasn't feeling zonked like that time I knocked back an entire bottle of cough syrup thinking it would get me over the cold that much faster. I was just... off a bit?

The morning shower also felt weird. I could feel the heat to some extent, but not the water hitting me, but I did feel slick because of the water. A bit of shampoo got in my eye and it didn't even sting. It was just strange.

After I was finished toweling off, I wiped the mirror of steam and took a good look at myself.

I was blotchy from all the needle holes and whatever chemicals were in the injections.

With the exception of the one that he said was going to the thyroid, twelve of the shots were below the waist this week.

I had:

\- A triangle pointing down of three puffy welts under the belly button, welts because of the slightly bigger needles. Man those stung going in. And coming out. And while they were there.  
\- Six in the Legpits (I honestly don't know what to call them. Arms have armpits where they connect to the torso, well, where the legs connected to my hips. And _no_ , the back of the knees are _not_ legpits, if they were then the elbows would be the _armpits_!), two of which were getting him pretty close to the 'stab you with your pen territory', especially considering where he had to place his hands to angle those needles.  
\- And the last three, hoo boy, Thinking about England. Butt Cheek. Butt Cheek. And an inch above the asshole. Wait... that was the British Naval tradition right? Rum and sodomy and prayer? British people thought about England didn't they? (Maybe I shouldn't be writing these metaphors down while under the influences of the superpill)

As a matter of fact, aside of a bit of redness, my butt didn't look too bad at all. Now that it wasn't entirely bone and muscle, it actually looked... _cute_.

I have a _cute little ass_ now!

I gave it a little slap. Then a harder one when I didn't feel it. Then a _really_ hard one that was loud. I didn't feel a damn thing. It also didn't jiggle like most of the girl's asses in the videos did when spanked. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Still, I definitely needed to test this no pain thing.

 **Oo0oO**

Things of note: If I ever need to get my ears pierced, or my nose, or tongue, or anything, take one of these pills first.

Also: Remember to disinfect the safety pin before[u] sticking it through my hand.

And: Have band-aids on hand, or at least something better than socks to wipe up the blood.

 **Oo0oO**

I took the second superpill just before lunch. The fuzziness was something I was getting used to, and I was fairly certain I could be ready for patrol and not put Dave at risk. I'd have to keep things simple and not leap about too much, otherwise I might mess up a landing and be walking on a busted ankle without knowing it.

Speaking of which, I think I understood Dave a lot better now. He still felt something, not nothing like I was right now, but being able to get hurt and keep going, it's a powerful sensation. _Nothing they did could stop you_ , or so you felt. It explained a lot of his confidence and a lot about his bad habits.

I resolved to only take two pills, not three. I'd tough out tonight without them.

 **Oo0oO**

Since I had some time before the patrol with Dave I spent it taking a walk in the nice May weather, and thought seriously on the other big thing that needed to be done soon.

Mindy.

Not the _me_ Mindy, but the Mindy that had to be different from me.

Way back, when Max was first explaining his steps to me, one big one was to separate Hit Girl and Mindy, like Dave was different as Kick-Ass. That'd make it easier for him to accept Hit Girl as something he could touch and not a little girl like Mindy was.

But, I was just _me_ wasn't I? Me in jeans, me in a skirt, me in my Hit Girl costume. No difference at all.

But was I? Was I _really_?

When nothing obvious came to mind, I forced myself to think about things I really _really_ want to recall, like when Daddy died.

 _Fuck_ it still hurt so much. Even now I had to fight back tears.

It hurt, but with the fuzziness of the pills I had a slightly detached perspective.

I recalled how I felt, what I did, what I said.

Hit Girl kept going, even after Daddy died.  
Mindy cried in Dave's arms.

I nodded to myself. There _was_ a difference. Mindy and Hit Girl were two separate roles, separate people. Just _barely_. It's just that I'd been _being_ Hit Girl for so long, it was like a comfortable pair of jeans.

It was default.

It would also explain the problems I was having fitting in at school. I wasn't _me_ in school, I was _me_ , in _Hit Girl_ , in regular clothes at school.

It was a fucking _revelation_ , really.

This train of thought called for a detour.

 **Oo0oO**

I was in the safehouse, kitted out to the nines as Hit Girl. My wig and mask were on, the armor, the skirt, and I had a handgun and a blade in my gloved hands.

I felt normal. Looking in the large mirror, I turned this way and that, studying my reflection. I curled my lip and shifted stances to put the weapons on display. I glared. I snarled. I smiled.

I still felt normal.

 **Oo0oO**

I was back in my civvies. I paced back and forth in front of the mirror, trying everything I could think of to be different, to not be me.

Nothing worked. Just me.

 **Oo0oO**

I was naked now, not even any hair bands.

The me in the mirror stared back. It was still me, just with little tits.

I walked up close and cupped a boob. The Brown jar had flaked off with a bit of rubbing and a small towel.

 _Nothing_. Still  me.

I grabbed both and started rubbing my nipples. Maybe if they were perked up?

Sensitive as my chest was, it still took a few minutes. I hadn't had these for even a month yet.

Still no change. I was me.

I was growling now in frustration. Marching over to the cot, I grabbed a pillow and tossed it on the floor.

Down on my knees I went. I grabbed a boob, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, I rubbed my cunt.

 _Nothing_ but me playing with myself.

I switched to sitting on the pillow and I spread my legs, cunt on display. Then I leaned back a bit, spread myself with my fingers and looked at myself through my legs.

Me in the Missionary changed _nothing_.

I was on my knees again, ass to the mirror, ready for doggie style.

Then I tried another pose, and then another.

But no matter what I wore or didn't wear, no matter what I tried, Hit Girl just didn't come _off_.

Eventually I gave up and got dressed in my costume. Then I called Dave to let him know to meet me at the safehouse a little early. No sense walking home just to turn around again and head back.

 **Oo0oO**

It was a quiet patrol, Sunday's typically were. With most people at home preparing for work the next day most of the scum weren't out to prey on them. Which meant nothing for me to focus on except my troubles.

"Can I ask you something?"

When I broke the silence and spoke, he jumped like I tazed him in the ass.

"Y-yes!?" Fuck it was hard not to dope slap him for acting like that. He had to come to me!

"How did you become Kick-Ass?"

Maybe if I learned how he turned his on, I could figure out how to turn mine off.


	37. Chapter 35

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 35

* * *

I hastened to explain what I meant, before Dave gave me his whole superhero back story. I needed specifics after all.

He chewed on that while his eyes swept the alleyways looking for targets, like he should. Like I'd beaten into his numb skull. After a couple of blocks he tried his best to explain.

 **Oo0oO**

Shop class was full in his first semester due to laziness on his part, but Drama had some spots left. His teacher, a little mousy woman named Miss Lemon, was very firm on using "order and method" to get into character. And she showed many videos of Actors getting into their roles by many methods.

One of his favorites involved a little English man, barely five foot four, with an egg shaped head. For him all it took was an elaborate moustache placed on his lip and he became a French (" _Belgium_!" Miss Lemon would howl.) Detective with an odd little walk.

And Dave did the same thing, but with his mask instead of a moustache . When his vision had his edges obscured by his mask he stepped _into_ Kick-Ass.

So, now I knew, but I've already tried taking my mask off. Hell, I've taken _everything_ off. But Hit Girl stayed put.

What more could I take off?

 **Oo0oO**

That night when I refused to take the superpill before I crashed, I was expecting pain. Throbbing from the needle marks, my hand when I was testing things, maybe my ass where I smacked it.

What I got instead was a sensation _overload_.

I went from feeling very little to feeling everything. The back of my elbows, my teeth, my eyebrows, you know, all those places that the brain typically ignores until something draws it's attention to it. I felt the blanket against my skin in seventeen distinct places, but when I tossed it off, I felt the cool air everywhere instead which was even more distracting. The blanket stayed on.

I felt pain as well, that certainly hadn't gone away, but it was past the worst of it. And it was just a few spikey balls in the big ol' ball pit o' sensation.

Since I wasn't going to sleep for a bit, I tried to think about matters, but that proved impossible. Distractions!

Eventually I slept, exhausted and feeling everything everywhere.

 **Oo0oO**

Monday sucked **balls**. Monday had a revelation for me. Ergo. Revelations sucked balls. _QED_.

It was really really hard not to snap at the teachers, my classmates, my friends...

I was incredibly _sleepy_ and incredibly _itchy_ at the same time thanks to the fat suit and the leftover effects of coming off the superpill, and, sitting in a desk listening to someone drone on and on about _some_ war with _some_ guys _centuries_ ago was taxing in ways I hadn't even imagined.

I think I understand why kids skip school now.

 **Oo0oO**

I actually ran the laps in gym class, much to the surprise and joy of the teacher who no doubt chalked me up as just another fat kid. Anything to get the blood moving and help me ignore this.

It helped... for about half of gym class.

But it also accidentally solved nearly everything.

Man, I wish I could take credit for it. Or not.

 **Oo0oO**

After running my laps, barely broke a sweat despite twenty of them in the May weather, I sat out and let the rest play volleyball.

As I said it helped for a little while, then I marched off early and went to the locker room.

Maybe another shower would wake me up?

 **Oo0oO**

Sadly, no dice. I was on zombie autopilot at the end there, towel wrapped around me.

 _Tromp_ , _tromp_ , _tromp_. Locker. Grab clothes. _Tromp_ , _tromp_ , _tromp_. Bathroom. Change.

 _Tromp_ , _tromp_ , **Wedgie**.

Wait... these weren't my clothes.

It's a sign you really _really_ need more sleep when you can get in the state I was in.

Now Jessi's locker was right next to mine, and, like me, she didn't throw a lock on hers. With me, the others knew, or used to know, that I'd stomp anyone messing with mine, and with Jessi, I dunno, maybe she wanted her clothes to be stolen? We really shouldn't need locks but fucking perverts are out there, rooting through girls lockers for their panties to sniff.

Speaking of which, that explained the wedgie. The shorts made it easy to reach in and dig that out.

I shuffled carefully over towards the mirror to take a look at myself. It was already on, no sense not taking a look.

My first thought could be summed up in one word: _Skank-o-Rama_. And yes, that is one word, hyphens do that.

How the fuck did Jessi wear this and not feel like a two-dollar _whore_? The T-shirt was tight, you'd think I'd painted it on yet it left a gap showing my belly button, the bra was more of an invitation than a support structure, and the damn underwear, a silk thong, it arced high on my hips out of the shorts, advertising it's existence like a banner saying " _easy access, just move the string, or not, I don't impede much_ ", and the shorts were slipping off my hips with an ease that was worry-some.

And me looking like this was dredging up all sorts of ugly feelings. I wasn't even sure Dave could get me to wear this for him.

I had to take it off before I tore it to shreds.

The shorts fell off with a wiggle of my hips but the shirt took some wrangling. Looking down at the bra, I noted with bemusement that, even two months ago, it would have looked absolutely comical. Now, it looked like a hand-me-down that I was well on the way to filling. It was a silky, see through sort of number, and my eyes flicked to my reflection.

I froze.

 _I_ wasn't there any more.

 _Hit Girl_ wasn't there.

A girlish little thing in a sheer bra and a teeny white thong was in my place. She had muscles, yes, but she was not bulky, her skin was smooth and unblemished, her hips weren't bony anymore, and she was filling in nicely.

I felt flushed. She blushed cutely.

I touched the mirror in wonder. She did the same.

Was this _me_? I turned my face this way and that. Even my face felt different, delicate. Her lips were inviting...

I was nearly squirming now and as she wiggled cutely my eyes were drawn to her hips.

There was a tiny stain on her thong.

Her hand crept down and dipped into her underwear. She touched herself and came back with fingers glistening. Her nipples were hardening as my gaze swept past the see through fabric.

So did mine.

She even smelled better than I did somehow.

It was _hard_ to turn away from the mirror. Even _harder_ to take the rest of it off.

When I did and turned back to the mirror, she was gone.

Nothing but a red-faced me with a leaky cunt holding onto some skankware.

It was then I understood. I had found my _moustache_.

And then my eyes widened in no small amount of terror.

I had found my _moustache_ **and** _I had less than fifteen minutes to wipe it clean with toilet paper before it's owner came back to her locker and found the damn crotch stain_.

And the Hit Girl that is I would rather take on an entire floor of a medium security prison _naked_ armed with a rusty butterknife than do that.

 **Oo0oO**

I wasn't sleepy in the afternoon, I couldn't be, I was way to fucking busy chanting my new mantra in my head.

 _Don't notice, don't notice. Do NOT notice. Please don't notice._

I was praying to every god and spirit I'd ever heard people beg to stop me. But since all those people were dead I had my doubts.

I must've rubbed it with half the toilet paper in the stall.

Had I put everything back in the right order?

I couldn't look at Jessi, I just couldn't.

Finally the last class ended and I carefully tried to escape. No dice, Angela and Jessi were closer to the door.

There are no words for my _terror_ that I could describe, barring what a coyote could say after having a paw caught in a trap. Yowls, yips and gnawing their fucking paw off to escape.

They were waiting for me. They wanted to talk to me. _Did they know_?

There is a scene, well several scenes, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, where the protagonist Raoul Duke is tripping hard and hitting levels of mind boggling paranoia. Oh, how I knew his suffering now.

Fuck Tyler Durden, I'm Raoul Duke right now!

"Hey Mindy, we gotta ask you something."

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck..._

"Yeah?" I winced at how high my voice was...

Jessi was frowning and peering at me. I could feel the sweat bead on my face.

I was **_Duking_** real hard. I declare that my new verb.

"Are you all right? You look all sweaty and flushed. Do you feel ok?"

Oh yeah my face was sweaty, and sticky, like that _goddamn crotch stain_ I made...

"I feel like a crotch stain."

I did _not_ just say that.

My eyes snapped to Jessi and then Angela.

I did.

 _Fuck_.

Angela cracked up at that. Jessi just flushed.

Not exactly my finest hour.

 **Oo0oO**

I agreed to whatever it was they asked me about, but I couldn't stay. I had to go real fast, _kthxbye_!

I'd agree to hold a banner at a fucking _Klan_ rally tomorrow if it meant I could escape today. I'd figure out what I agreed to later.

And then I was home, alone, and dearly wanting to punch a brick wall down without gloves. I don't recall how I got home, nor did I care.

I needed another shower, there hadn't been time at the locker room, and some sort of brain bleach so I could forget this day.

What the fuck was wrong with me?!

 **Oo0oO**

When there is a **Big** Problem, capital **B** , Daddy used to say, break it down and look at the bits you've taken off.

It works for handguns, it works for interrogations, it'll work for me.

Hokay. Here goes.


	38. Chapter 36

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 36

* * *

Time to break this into bits and examine each one.

\- I was on a lot of pills.  
\- I was on the superpill.  
\- I was tired as all fuck.  
\- I got dressed in skankware.  
\- I took off said skankware.  
\- I looked at myself, and then I got horny at my own reflection?

Crazy as it was, that appeared to be the chain of events.

First, let's cross off the lots of pills for now, it hasn't done anything like that prior and I had taken hundreds thus far. We can also cross off tired. That ain't been new neither, though it may have helped let my guard down or something.

Testing with the superpill was going to be put on the bottom of the pile. Far too risky.

That left Skankware. Yaaay. What a fun way to spend my next free day.

 **Oo0oO**

Now for the next bit, what _exactly_ the fuck happened to me in the locker room that had me need to use sink water and toilet paper like a maniac?

First off, I gave myself a wedgie just to be sure. Hey, some people got off with hooks in their back, couldn't be too careful. And nope. Still worth a shot.

And thanks to that thing in the locker room, I now had to ask; Do I like girls? And not in a friend sort of way?

An hour of lesbian porn indicated otherwise.

I mean, the girls were pretty, and I could appreciate the acrobatics involved, and the videos were classier than the suck and slams I'd been watching, with better lighting and music...

But no. Blondes, brunettes, red heads, asians, latinos, blacks, hell even albinos. Barely eighteen, college girls, preggos, MILF's, GMILF's. I even dug up some girls my age just to be sure.

Nothing.

What about men? Cut or not, flabby or fit, nine to ninety.

Nothing.

I made a note to clean my browser's history before Marcus got home. No telling when he'll try to sneak on my machine again.

 **Oo0oO**

I blinked. I must've nodded off there for a bit. The online lingerie catalog I had open was still stuck on the thing Jessi was wearing. On their own, or on the model, it wasn't doing anything for me, aside of making me gawk at how so little cost so big. Eye patches and dental floss should not cost that _fucking_ much!

My phone was buzzing in my pocket, it was Dave. He was tired, and was wondering if it was all right to make this a slack day.

Huzzah! Thank fuck! A valid excuse not to collapse on him like I did on that stakeout!

Naturally I couldn't let him go with a blunt, "Sure whatever." or some shit, he might think I'm _weak_.

"Oh, _Dave_ ," I said as sweetly as I could. I could practically hear his hackles rise at that. "If you're tired, no worries, you need your beauty sleep. But I will be tacking extra cardio on our next training session. And, you'll owe me a _favor_."

An email came in on my computer as Dave grumbled and made excuses. After a glance any joy at his grumbling withered and died.

"In fact," I trailed off. "I think I'll cash it in tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What's happening then?"

" _Apparently_ ," and I reread the email to be sure. "I promised this afternoon to go with Angela and Jessi tomorrow after school. Bikini shopping naturally."

I could see the hamster in Dave's skull warm up the wheel in my minds eye.

" _Whuh_?" The wheel needed a little bit of grease.

"You heard me."

"But why? Why me?"

"Because we are _partners_ , and thus we share. _I_ will be miserable, _you_ will be miserable, and thus we will deepen our bonds in _shared_ misery." I emphasized the words sweetly.

"Can you _even_ wear a bikini?" His voice was petulant.

My eyes narrowed. "Care to _explain_ that sentence?"

He'd been fucking Katie for a while and thus caught on to what exactly he said faster than the average nerd. "No no! I don't mean it like _that_! I mean can you even wear one with that padded suit?"

A good point. "I have one built into a one piece that I wear with a large t-shirt. In fact, let me email them just that." I don't wear bikinis stop should I still be going with you? stop.

The response came back in less than half a minute. "You are the designated bikini bitch." I recited. "Explain this Dave."

He chuckled. "It's the person, usually the boyfriend, who has to fetch the bikinis for them to try and put them back when they are done, and tell them how they look."

That didn't sound too bad. "And the catch?"

"You'll be doing it thirty or forty times. Each."

 _Fuckity_ fuck fuck with a side order of fuck.

Wait... There were skimpy as fuck bikini's weren't there? An excellent chance to experiment.

"Oh _Dave_..."

"Yes Bikini Bitch?" Har de fucking _har_ Dave.

"Do you know what they call the Bikini Bitch's bitch?"

"How's that?"

"They call it _Dave_."

At his spluttered protests I pushed on. "I'm gonna be in the fat suit, so I can't exactly go in and out trying them. And even if I find one, I can't exactly buy it without raising suspicion."

"I repeat my earlier statement slightly revised. Since when did you want to wear a bikini."

"Honestly, I never have. But if I'm gonna be stuck in there for hours and hours, I will try some on, if only to cross it off my bucket list. Tried skanky dental floss. Check."

He snorted at that. "Fine."

And that was that.

After I hung up, I tromped downstairs, left a note downstairs for Marcus saying I was tired and will eat when I got up.

I barely managed to goop and pill up before I crashed.

 **Oo0oO**

 **Intruder**!

I went from _Walk_ to _Kill_.

The PPK and knife were in my hands and I sprung at the fucker in seconds. After a quiet tussle, I flipped over him and had a gun at his temple and a knife at the balls.

Then my bare tits rubbed against the frills of his uniform. It was Maid-man.

"I knocked." he said quietly, holding up his own phone.

Right, I had a new phone.

"Max didn't forward you my new number?" He shook his head.

Sighing I gave him the new number, and demanded his so I can send him the next one.

With that crisis out of the way, I recalled I had my tits pressed against his back. Telling him not to turn around I took a step and grabbed shirt #4.

 **Oo0oO**

"So," I said, when I wasn't giving him a free show and had the lights on. "What you got for me?"

A bundle was rolled out like a set of thieve's tools, only cock-shaped.

New little Dave's.

"That was fast." I noted, surprised. Then a thought occurred to me. "These are not _used_ right? Not by you or..." I couldn't finish that sentence _**EVER**_.

Goddamn Max.

"No. These were purchased under the guise of a display set for a store. Many sizes and shapes."

These ones were all the same length, but the thickness went up and up, well past what was Dave, or any human could achieve. Some of them were thicker than my goddamn _fist_. I think I could literally beat someone to death with the one on the end.

Now which one was right?

It was the third one after testing. His face was carefully bland as I popped it out of my face. It irked me slightly.

"Nothing to say?" I said somewhat crossly when I could speak.

He shook his head slowly. "It's just that, you can put that in, but you can't handle an egg roll?"

"Are you asking for a knife to the balls? 'Cause that's all I'm hearing." But my lips were twitching. As were his.

Then I had an evil thought. I handed him an unused dildo. "Stand up."

He did, perplexed.

"Now watch carefully." And I showed him the knife trick that got him every time.

 **Oo0oO**

After a half hour, he could deflect the dildo aimed for his balls with his own, and I assured him that if he could do it with a rubber dick, a knife would be _way_ easier.

And with that, I kicked him out, but for one final thing.

"What's your name anyways?"

"My name is Cato. With a C."

"Good to know you Cato with a C."

And then he was out my window a quiet rustle of branches.


	39. Chapter 36-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 36-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _I have decided to keep on the current plan. I shall run the Regular story and the Secret Diary in parallel. If you read the regular story, it will be perfectly readable until the end, upon which the secret diary will explain all that is revealed._

 _Also, reading both should in fact also work, or it should if I am careful enough._

 _This shall be an excellent exercise for me._

* * *

After the Maid-man left I tried to get a bit more sleep, but found I couldn't, not with the dregs of adrenalin still in my system.

So I grabbed my phone from the charger and flicked to a program.

 _"Have you ever considered your friend Dave's condition?"_

Thank fuck my phone has the ability to record audio, even if it's in my shirt on the nearby chair. I must've listened to it a dozen times before I started writing this.

 **Oo0oO**

I remember that he was so lost in his excitement of revealing and explaining some of his latest and greatest work, that he hadn't even noticed what his hands were doing. They fondled, they caressed, they squeezed. I endured. It was necessary to win.

I didn't shrug as he'd pinch me if he did. So I shook my head slightly. He was close enough to feel my hair move.

"He treats it as if it were a super power, but all it is is damage. And it isn't just _pain_ that is reduced to a fifth, but _pleasure_ as well." He lingered on those words.

I also recall my brain just stopping at that sentence.

He paused in his gropings to hold his finger and thumb scant millimeters apart in front of my face. "That's how far apart pain and pleasure are in the brain. And they use much the same system for transmission."

His gloved hand resumed it's place on my greasy chest. "If he was a typical teenage boy then masturbation was likely his zenith of pleasure. Since I can only assume that he was intimate after his injuries, he's felt a modicum of pleasure at best. Maybe a three or a four on a scale of ten."

 _Holy_ fucking shit!

"It explains much of the the heroing as well, adrenalin is still a stimulant for him, and he probably feels more of everything while on good dose of old _C9H13NO3_."

 _Holy Fucking Shit!_ Even now, it explains so much.

"And the glands?" I heard my tinny voice whispering in shock. I recalled that my nipples were aching with a teeny bit of pleasure and a fair amount pain at that point, but I paid them and his hands no mind.

"My work from back then with the Castilians has grown in leaps and bounds. Of those three vials of blood, only one was needed for for a complete workup of you. The rest went into the growth of my tiny synthetic glands."

He'd made two hundred of them, though only a handful survived, and of them only two grew to a prime size.

"Of those six initial needles into your armpits four were to target your lymph nodes, mostly to throw your immune system into temporary disarray. It was why you felt out of sorts for a while. Once they were settled in and receiving blood, the glands used the same defense that ticks use. An orchestrated action of humoral and cellular immune responses. Your lymph nodes settled down and then you felt better and suffered minimum organ damage. Your recovery has been excellent."

I had two glands in my armpits, secreting with my sweat.

"The week after had two aiming for your supraclavicular lymph nodes for further suppression, and two under your shoulder blades to place the glands against your lungs."

I had two glands secreting into my lungs, saturating the air I breathed.

There were _five_ needles that day, and the thought of where that fifth one went was not lost to me.

"And, two weeks ago, two more were inserted."

The two largest glands were in my mouth, under my tongue, implanted next to and mixing with my saliva.

And for what they did well, the only binary compounds I knew of leveled buildings.

"And just now, a few more, though those serve a different purpose."

I shivered in his hands.

"So _many_ improvements."

He took that as a compliment.

 **Oo0oO**

"Pharmacological torture is a big business. Why use a knife when a needle will suffice? There are various methods, addiction and withdrawal, terror, madness, but those take time. And those in power are impatient.

He had stopped rubbing and was nearly embracing me from behind at this point, his breath was on my neck as he went on.

"Pain works, but the brain has defenses. Too much damage and you go into shock, your mind can gate pain and ignore it, or things can simply shut down. You can be trained to resist it, conditioned to transcend it."

 _ **Daddy? I'm scared.**_  
 _ **Come on, Mindy, honey? Be a big girl now. There's nothing to be afraid of.**_  
 _ **Is it gonna hurt bad?**_  
 _ **Aww, child. Only for a second, sugar.**_

I blinked and returned to being in the Doctor's hands.

"And it's messy and often very noticeable afterwards, almost impossible to cover up."

"Now, there is a drug, one I am _proud_ to have had a hand in making, that temporarily removes the brain's defenses against sensation. And amplifies it _immensely_. You could hack away at a man for hours with a knife and not break him, but I with 200cc's could break him in minutes with a toothpick."

I could _hear_ him smiling as he looked down on me from behind, we were so close.

"Now I _normally_ would advise against using it for pleasure, too much sensation just becomes _pain_ , and rising into utter _agony_ beyond which the brain is designed to process as both spots act in tandem.

But that isn't nearly as bad a problem when you have severe nerve damage to reduce the signal propagation cycle just so..."

 _ **You're gonna be fine, baby doll!**_

 **Oo0oO**

Dave's doctor, the Biker Santa, was another Sculptor.

It's painfully obvious in hindsight, all those huge guys in one clinic. But he wasn't some shady locker-room troll handing out questionable needles from a fanny pack, no. He was a pro. An _artist_ , like Bildhauer.

And when someone who shall remain nameless stops and thinks for like ten seconds or so, which I hadn't (oops), one has to wonder what kind of needle would make _Dave_ of all people rub his arm afterwards?  A big god damn needle, that's what.

 **Oo0oO**

And you wonder why I said I had a lot on my mind that Saturday night Max, assuming you are in fact reading this?


	40. Chapter 37

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 37

 _Author's Note: Who has two thumbs and may have jury duty?_

 _Gigaturk!_

 _This may hamper the new couple'a weeks. Stay tuned._

* * *

It was as much hell as I expected. Carnal malefactors _everywhere_. This was the wardrobe room for the Second Circle of Hell.

And dear, _sweet_ , Dave went and topped it two scoops of shit sprinkles.

Dante would be proud.

Note to self: reread the Divina Commedia and check it for parallels.

 **Oo0oO**

I was talking about Katie. Somehow she had found out and decided to join Dave and I.

That meant that I, the bikini-bitch, lacked a bitch of my own. And watching him suffer was only good for maybe fifteen minutes or so. After all, I was doing the same.

That meant no experiments with the bikinis. Which meant this day was a complete fucking waste.

"Oh Mindy... fetch that green one please."

Goddamn Angela was certainly enjoying this.

I grabbed the green one and marched into her booth. It was a couple millimeters leaner than the last one, and if it was anything like the last two it'd probably disintegrate if in the same room as a glass of frigging water.

"So, how do I look?" Angela preened and wagged her tits at me.

"Like a cheap French harlot."

"French?!" She tore it off in disgust.

If I hadn't seen an hour plus of assorted lesbo-porn yesterday, this would have been a pretty good way to know that girls didn't do anything for me.

Or I wasn't Angela-sexual at the very least. I'm saying this as she's bending over to take off the skimpy pink thing and giving me a view all the way to Toledo.

So far it's still Dave or nothing. I think that's a good thing.

 **Oo0oO**

If nothing else, today let me compare myself against a number of people. Though you'd be hard pressed to tell with me in jeans and a sweatshirt and the padded suit.

Katie in several different bikinis was carefully burned into my mind and a couple discretely on my phone.

That was my goal. Beat _that_. Bring more to the table than _that_. If Dave was gonna take me seriously I had to be able to toe the line, and she was the line.

That was my end game.

Now, where was my next big milestone?

 **Oo0oO**

Jessi was like the best person to be a bikini-bitch for. She grabbed three fairly modest suits, walked to the booth farthest from the rest, and didn't demand I rate how her ass looked in blue fabric or green every thirty seconds.

In fact, she hadn't called for me yet, and Angela was on her fourteenth try out.

I went over and knocked on the metal booth frame.

"Yes?" she sounded startled, I didn't think I had been sneaking up on her.

"Bikini-biiitch." I replied like I was delivering a telegram. That got me a giggle from her. "Want me to grab you anything else to try? I'm sure I could dig up something skimpier, there's always something skimpier around here. Less is more!" Her giggles got worse.

"Or shall I come in and judge your ass? I've been saying things like, 'Oh yes Angela, your ass in the teeny purple triangle is much better than the teeny red one.' for the last twenty minutes, but somehow I'm supposed to come up with new words to describe it each time. It's an ass. It's ass shaped."

When she could breathe from all the giggling, she bade me to enter.

 **Oo0oO**

"Now, I don't wear bikini's, but if I did, I'd wear one of these." I said sincerely.

Practical. A nice dark blue. It covered everything, the material was thick enough that even when wet it wasn't going to be a free show, and could it possibly be? Yes I think it was!

"I think you can actually swim in this." You'd think that'd be the point with these. But I was learning quickly that 'Swimsuit' and 'Bathing Suit' were two _very_ different beasts.

"Do a quick hop." She did, and while things bounced, nothing popped out. I could probably jump around a room kill a half-dozen thugs and not have a single wardrobe malfunction in this one. It'd be stupid, like one of those cheesy B-movies Dave likes, but I could do it.

Unlike that last one I'd seen Dave hand Katie, which would require very careful moving and breathing to stay decent. Or on. Or I'd need glue. _Lots_ of glue. "Good. Nothing falls out. Aside of that..."

I gave her a good look over. "Well, thanks to Angela I'm running out of metaphors and I am too damn proud of my vocabulary to use a repeat, so... you are getting ones from a car mechanics magazine, 'you have an excellent drag coefficient in that."

I grinned as she had no idea if that was good or not. "A nice streamlined chassis with good panels." That got her giggling and blushing as she worked her way through the metaphors.

I waggled my eyebrows. " _Excellent_ mileage."

That set her off again. She had a nice laugh.

"Honestly, the only thing I can say is that what you have on is like five times the coverage of what you usually wear."

"~Oh Miiiindy.~" Angela's voice was lilting like she was calling for her maid.

"Oh for _fucks_ sake... Coming!"

And I was off.

Only in hindsight as I write this, do I now notice that Jessi had stopped laughing.

 **Oo0oO**

After ten more minutes with Angela, I was running out of ways of hinting, ' _you look like one sneeze away from everything falling off, cover your tits_ '. I was tempted to bust out my phone and see about a Thesaurus app.

"And how about this?"

"Well, it shows off your cunt pretty good, I can see bits of it sticking out there." I pointed out.

That got her blushing, spinning and pawing herself. I couldn't _really_ see it, though that was a near thing. Anything smaller and she was gonna have to start shaving.

"Mindy, could I get your opinion on this?"

That was Jessi, and also the first time she'd called.

"A bikini-bitch's work is never done." I noted wryly. "Seriously though, if you plan on doing anything aside of sit there and breathe, go for something with actual fabric."

And with that I swept past the curtain.

 **Oo0oO**

With Jessi taken care of I stepped out to see Angela looking through the more practical selection. Good. That means we'd all be actually doing something if and when we went out.

I still wasn't sure why we were picking them out so early. Our school didn't have a swimming portion, Elementary and High School did. And it wasn't like they were on sale or anything.

Ah well, something I'll figure out why later.

I grimaced as I saw Angela heading back with three more. Will this day ever _fucking_ end?

 **Oo0oO**

Finally, fucking _finally_ , everyone was winding down.

Katie was already getting in line, Dave in tow to pay.

Dave was happy as he got to oogle Katie, probably more, when he snuck inside the booth when he thought I wasn't looking.

Angela had whittled them down to the final three, two of which I am proud to say were things I might actually wear if I didn't have the thick suit to worry about.

Jessi was changing back after getting my opinion on her selection, and was choosing the nice, blue, well covering one.

Everyone was satisfied except _me_. No chance to sneak off and test my hypothesis, no having Dave on hand as the bikini-bitch's bitch. No alone time at all with Dave, not with Katie around.

Unacceptable. There had to be a way to claw some progress, some victory out of this day. But how?

And then it hit me. OSP!

I made a beeline to the nearest booth.

 **Oo0oO**

All of us with prizes in hand strode off into the late afternoon sun, seeking something cold and loaded with sugar, as apparently was tradition after the bikini battles had ended.

I also found out that it was also tradition for the Bikini-Bitch to pay for this, as it was typically the boyfriend that was said BB.

I didn't mind, I had the cash after all, AND it gave me power. The power to choose where to go. Or not go.

I veto'd Dave's ice cream shop.

And _no_ , it wasn't because of the fact that Riley, Riley's left boob, and Riley's right boob we there today.

I just didn't feel like ice cream is all.

 **Oo0oO**

We took the booth in the back, mostly out of habit from me. Easy access to the exit, no exposure to the windows, and a clear view to the door. Plus, no one eating here was left handed, which made watching the motion of their hands easy to check for threats.

Even treats from Daddy had lessons in them.

Dave and Katie went for the ice cream, Katie had Vanilla, Dave a Mint Chocolate. Angela had a large bowl of Cookie Dough covered in chocolate sauce and sprinkles. Jessi went for the Strawberry Sundae. And I, I had a Coke and some Lemon Sorbet. Drizzle a little on the sorbet and man it's just right. Plus dairy free.

I came back to the booth with my prize in tow to find the two crossing arms and nibbling on each other's cones. It was enough to make me _gag_.

Gag and place my deserts on the table two rows back...

 **Oo0oO**

Dave did not react at all well when I double wet-willied him. No sir.

Seriously, I'm putting choke-holds on the to-do list, a wet-willie is one icepick away from an ear lobotomy, and I'm fairly certain I could put a Colombian Necktie on him as his nose hit the vanilla.

"That's for not being the Bikini-Bitch's bitch!"

Even Katie was struggling not to laugh at the flaming shards of Dave's dignity.

 **Oo0oO**

We enjoyed our sugar piles immensely, though Dave was taking his time and was alternating between glaring at me and frowning at his ice cream.

"Seriously, you work at an ice cream shop and you get brain freezes that easily?" I placed my hand upon my brow like a forlorn maiden. "For _shame_."

"Shaddup to the chuckleheads across the table." He grumbled. "I think they are overfreezing this so they can keep their stock longer without replacing it."

I shrugged, watching him carefully. Mine was fine, and Katie was showing no signs of poisoning. Probably nothing more than his professional ice cream skills being rankled by a competitor.

 **Oo0oO**

Eventually though, it was time to go our separate ways.

Dave and Katie were going to see a movie, it was cheap matinee Tuesday, though I doubt they were gonna remember much of the movie over licking each other's tonsils.

Angela ran to catch her bus, it was only a block away.

That left me and Jessi, slowly finishing our deserts.

As soon as we were alone, I felt the awkwardness start to seep into the store.

"So..." I began hesitantly, stirring my melting slush. This wasn't gonna be easy.

 **Oo0oO**

"I have an enormous favor to ask of you." I concluded as gravely as I could, metaphorical plastic cone around my neck.

 **Oo0oO**

Two minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom, cheeks lightly pink.

"Hand wash, hang to dry." She whispered as she discretely passed 'it' to me.

It vanished into my pockets with a quiet nod.

OSP complete.

 **Oo0oO**

I walked her home, it wasn't that far and we enjoyed the time together. Neither of us spoke, for we both appreciated the quiet that the lack of Angela brought us.

Don't get me wrong, I like Angela, but after a whole day with her the silence we had was so nice.

Jessi was relaxed and smiling happily. Despite our height difference she had grabbed my arm and was leaning against me, head on my shoulder as we walked.

God damn I wish I could be as girly as she could. Dave would be a snap with those skills.

Peeking downward from the corner of my eye, I could see the top of my panties above her low-cut hip hugging jeans.

For the official record, those were clean. I am still wearing my own, it's just that I wear a larger pair on top of the padded suit so the lines show. I didn't want anyone thinking I go as a pudgy commando after all.

And it turns out, if you take me, add twenty pounds and two inches to my hips, you fit an almost fourteen year-old Jessi.

Still, she looked a bit too happy wearing them, like they were a treat. You'd think she hadn't worn plain underwear in ages or something.


	41. Chapter 37-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 37-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _And I am confirmed for jury duty. Yaay._

 _I won't have internet access, and I don't think I can be writing this while I'm there._

 _I shall return! Mark my words!_

* * *

After I waved goodbye to Jessi I wandered up the block before carefully doubling back in the alley.

It was easy. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood, Jessi's family didn't spring for motion sensor lights, and it was starting to pass into early evening. It was a nice warm day, and windows were cracked open. I heard voices around the dinner table, though I couldn't make out what they were saying thanks to the TV also being on to some sports show with lots of cheering in the living room.

Out of sight I waited. Waited and thought about things.

Marcus sent a message to my old phone. He was gonna be late, somebody got themselves perished. Such is the life of a cop.

I made a note to order takeout when I got home. No egg rolls though. Not a god damn cent of my money was going towards that crap.

Marcus can buy his own damn rolls.

 **Oo0oO**

In explosive terms, Dave was the Rigger and I was the Trigger. He, with first one and recently now two tiny glands, one in each shoulder where his bones were cracked and healed, is slowly secreting his half of the drug with no name into his system.

And I have the other half. The part that Dr. Bildhauer himself made. Mine combined with Dave's and made an active compound. Thankfully Dave's was in his blood, and I'd need a transfusion or to drink a pint to be affected. That, the Doc said, would not be wise.

Mine could be absorbed by Dave through his skin or his lungs. The Doctor's skill with delivery systems was unparalleled.

It'd take an hour for it to be noticeably affecting him just breathing my musk. Faster if I was sweating. Like in training.

That would push him to double, or 40% sensitivity, give or take a bit. Though it faded in about a quarter hour or so. He'd notice my absence by everything feeling less... alive.

My breath was much faster to take effect but also faded quickly. When I straddled him that time and got real close, that was the first real taste Dave had of me.

Remembering that gave me the same shivers I gave him.

And lastly my mouth. Oh _sweet merciful fuck_ my mouth.

It took about twenty seconds or so for my saliva to seep through pores of his skin. Longer if it wasn't a 'mucus membrane' place like his mouth or dick.

But that first clumsy time on the rooftop in hindsight was probably the best thing he'd ever felt, and any shame or disgust I felt was to be ruthlessly crushed under the practicality of it's use.

On a 1 to 10, I had awkwardly sucked my way up to a **_9_**. And that was with  ONE gland. Dave got a second one which would push it up another 40%.

With Daddy I was perfect, but with Dave I could be even _more_ than perfect.

I was already thinking up strategies.

 **Oo0oO**

Twenty minutes passed outside Jessi's house. Thirty. It was like the old times with Daddy, waiting for that perfect moment to strike. Or staking out a place for targets, learning their routines. Having the new phone helped, and I worked on my Tetris scores.

Old habits die hard.

The May mosquitoes were still tiny, and while I couldn't slap them -it'd make an obvious noise- You could make them explode by clenching your muscles to tighten your skin. They couldn't stop taking in blood you see, and eventually... _pop_.

Ten minutes after that a woman left the house out the front. Jessi's mom most likely, I hadn't heard any other woman's voices thus far. She took the only car. Was she off to bingo? To liquor up? To fuck someone? I didn't have enough data draw a conclusion.

As a matter of fact, I had very little information about anything Jessi related out of school. She had a mom and dad, and maybe a brother? Or was that Angela? No, Angela was a single child right?

Fuck, having friends is a lot of work.

Still, I should know more about them both. What kind of friend was I that couldn't even get that right. Both of them knew about Dave and Marcus practicality the first week we'd been together.

I was a horrible friend.

But I'd work on it.

 **Oo0oO**

At the bikini store I had few places to really try things out on Dave. But what little I had by rubbing elbows or breathing on him as he went by showed such impressive results I could barely hold back jumping him there and then.

And that explained why Max was hiding it from me. If I pushed too hard, mind blowing pleasure or no, Dave was gonna do the right thing because he was a good person. A proper hero, unlike me.

He'd stop _this_ , stop _us_. Stop _me_.

And he'd probably blame himself while he did it. Maybe kill himself, maybe turn himself in and get ended wicked, painful, and slow, at the hands of inmate. That's what they do to kiddie fuckers after all. He'd probably think he'd deserve it too.

And it'd be my fault.

I'd be sticking even harder to Max's schedule from now on.

Speaking of what happened in the bikini store, what in the name of _fuck_ do I do about Jessi?

Only in hindsight as I write this, do I now notice that Jessi had stopped laughing, back when I was commenting on what she wore.

I was a terrible friend indeed.

 **Oo0oO**

I was a _terrible_ friend, and I knew it the moment after she called me to get an opinion.

"Is this better?" Her smile was sharp, almost bitter.

While I did't know if Angela shaved, I now knew Jessi did.

The 'suit', and I hesitate to call it that, was a micro-bikini emphasis on the _micro_. It wasn't worn so much as _wedged_ between her lips.

The 'top' covered her nipples. Mostly. The pink was plainly visible on the sides.

Calling it skanky, or whorish was far too mild a term. It was _obscene_ , plain and simple.

The almost fourteen year-old spun slowly, letting me see everything she had to offer.

"You want this too? _Fine_. I don't mind." She didn't sound fine, even I could tell that.

I raced over my last conversation with her, searching for where I'd gone wrong.

 _Oh_. Oh _fuck_. She'd thought I meant _that_!

Jessi had taken deer in the headlights look for shyness or something, and she'd gently grabbed my hands and placed them on her bare waist. Then she leaned into me, pressing herself into my padded suit, which was nearly literally the only thing separating us at this point.

She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I can love you too."

Her hands started to roam up and down my back I think. I couldn't really feel it in the suit.

Her eyes were measuring me. Judging me. I knew I didn't measure up to any standard.

This was all _my_ fucking fault. And so I'd fix it, pride be _damned_.

"I'm such a terrible friend." I whispered dully. It seemed to surprise her, as her caressing of me stopped. "I can't do _anything_ right."

I looked up at her, and I was fighting not to cry. "I've fucked up and I've _hurt_ you, and I don't know what to say to help."

"I didn't mean it like that. You are _pretty_ Jessi, really pretty. You look good in anything, even that skimpy stuff, unlike me when I tried yours on. I just meant that it was different from what you usually wear, and I wasn't sure if you were wearing it because you wanted to or not."

I couldn't bear to look at her gaze any more and so my hands drifted up and around her back drawing her into a proper hug. "I'm so _bad_ at this. I'm bad at being _normal_ , at being a _girl_ , at being a _friend_. All I can do well is hurt people."

And it was true, from the very first time we met, to Angela's party, all the way even now, I couldn't do anything to help her when she was down, it was always Angela hauling me along the right way to fix things.

She hugged me back, and when I looked up at her, I saw her eyes were shining with almost tears.

Fuck! I was making her cry now. Could this day any worse?

She giggled and hiccuped at my expression and quickly reassured me that it was all right, that she was happy that I'd called her pretty.

Happy about that... while wearing what she was?

"Wait, you _wore_ my clothes?" She didn't sound angry, just surprised.

Ah shit, she caught that. I'm pretty sure I was going red now.

"It's a long, _stupid_ story, and I will tell you it when we have a quiet moment, I _promise_. But not here, in a booth, with Angela nearby. I don't want half the city to know." She smiled a bit at that.

I started my less than graceful retreat.

"You really thought I looked pretty in the blue one?" she asked, eyeing me with an expression I didn't quite understand.

"You look pretty in anything, it's just..." I struggled to find the words. "You looked _happier_ in it."

Her expression seemed thoughtful and that same something else.

I left to give her some privacy to change.

 **Oo0oO**

Outside, while watching Angela pick more sensible swimsuits, my mind began to race. I went over Jessi's words and my own.

The only conclusions I could draw were ones that raised _ugly_ bubbling thoughts and feelings. One's that only got soothed by sticking knives into things.

But I couldn't dare _guess_ , or _suspect_ , I would need to get the answers myself. Clearly I was bad enough at this friends thing to make a mess of things as is. I had to know for sure.

As Angela called for me again, I was busy scheming. I had to come up with not only an excuse to walk her home, but I also had to come up with something suitable to distract or satisfy Max. Something... _childish_.

And with that, I aimed to make a beeline to a booth when I was next free.

Plus it'd get me a thong I could test out. No sense making this a complete waste.

 **Oo0oO**

The house was old, the walls were thin. Someone went upstairs. The footsteps were heavy, heavier than Jessi's anyways.

I waited.

Ten minutes later the TV in the living room switched off.

More footsteps upstairs, two sets, one heavier than the other. I traced the room by the creak of a door. I stood below it.

I waited.

 **Oo0oO**

Our booth also had view to the clock on the wall. Giving Dave the _Double-Wet-Willie_ Mindy special, I sat down, ate, and timed it.

Two minutes. At least from his ears. Now, I've seen people stick tongues into ears sometimes, _gross_ when you consider the ear-wax in there, but it was apparently a panty peeler move. If I tried it on Dave, I was gonna have to talk or do something before it kicked in.

Good to know.

 **Oo0oO**

Please let me be _wrong_.

 **Oo0oO**

After everybody left leaving me with Jessi.

"So..." I began hesitantly, stirring my melting slush. This wasn't gonna be easy.

"Fuck it," I decided, stabbing my slush. "Let's get the worst of it out of the way. But you'll forgive me if I use some vague phrases here and there. This isn't exactly as private as I like."

She nodded and waited for me to begin.

"I was tired, and I went to the nearest locker without a lock, yours is next to mine, and I only realized after I had everything thing on and got a wedgie."

She smiled and looked down at her empty bowl. "That happens at times. You get used to it."

"At that point, it was on so I decided I may as well see what I looked like."

"And?" She asked, staring at me intently. "What did you look like? Don't suger-coat it for me."

I owed her at least that much.

"I looked like a _whore_." I whispered.

 **Oo0oO**

 _Please_.

 **Oo0oO**

She didn't seem surprised, only resigned. "Yeah, that's what they are supposed to do I think."

"But why?" I pressed, unable to understand. "why do you wear it? You look so sad in it."

When she smiled sadly, I realized I wasn't unable, I was just unwilling.

 _"You'd be amazed at what you'll **do** , what you'll **be** , so someone will love you."_

 **Oo0oO**

I wasn't wrong.

From the cracked open window on the second floor came _sounds_.

I knew those sounds. I'd heard them a hundred times in my headphones.

I made those sounds with Dave once.

 **Oo0oO**

She saw something on my face. Something that told her I understood.

"You _too_?" She whispered. "Who's doing it to you? Is it Marcus? _Dave_?"

 **Oo0oO**

I heard a man's voice now, older.

I won't write down what he called her, what he told her to do with her mouth.

I don't ever want to remember it.

 **Oo0oO**

I shook my head, it seemed to confuse her.

"No one's doing it to me. I'm doing it to myself."

 **Oo0oO**

He finished with a grunt and a moan. Eleven minutes all told.

He called her a dirty little whore and insisted she liked it.

Either she didn't say anything or it was at a whisper. I couldn't say.

I was listening _hard_ to hear something else. Something I wanted so dearly to hear.

I didn't hear it.

She left, closing the door behind her.

I circled the house once more.

 **Oo0oO**

How in the living _fuck_ do you explain all that was done to make me into Hit Girl _inside Pop's Chok'lit Shoppe_?

I tried anyways. Jessi was a friend, she deserved that much.

"When I was little, my Mom died of drugs." I kept my eyes on my Sorbet as I stirred it, somehow it made things easier to say when I wasn't looking at her. "After Daddy got out of prison, he came and got me. I think I was four or five."

It was a struggle to come up with the words. It had to be vague but it had to explain.

"It was just him and me. And he taught me many things." I said fondly.

How to field service a gun, how to handle a knife, how to prepare an ambush...

"I acquired a particular set of skills, Jessi. Skills that normal girls don't normally have."

 **Oo0oO**

By the time I'd finished circling around the building I could hear the fucking.

The bed was creaking and rocking, bumping the wall. I could hear her grunting and gasping, and I heard his voice, a different voice from before. _Younger_.

They took a while. Probably because he was younger.

I still didn't hear what I wanted.

 _Where was it_?

 **Oo0oO**

"And when I could finish my tasks even when punched a bit, I got _ice cream_!" I said happily. Daddy looked so proud when I presented the assembled Glock. I beat his best time by nine seconds to boot.

 **Oo0oO**

Twenty and a half minutes later they finished, him grunting that he was coming, and she moaned on cue.

They used a condom. I know as I heard it hit the metal wastebasket with a wet _splat_.

Then all was quiet except their panting. Then silence.

I still couldn't hear it. _Why didn't I hear it_?

 **Oo0oO**

"And then I was _perfect_. I could do anything Daddy wanted me to."

 **Oo0oO**

A few minutes later they were making out, sloppily, with tongue. Loud enough to hear from outside.

Apparently he didn't mind the taste of Dad on her breath.

After a few minutes of that, he told her to get on top. He was quiet after that, I only heard her panting and the bed creaking quietly.

I don't know if they used a condom this time.

 **Oo0oO**

"And then he died, and I was alone."

It was weird, it hurt less to say it this time. Was it because it was Jessi?

My sorbet was all gone at this point. Just swirls of yellow and brown.

Silence followed.

I gathered up my courage and looked at Jessi.

 **Oo0oO**

He lasted longer the second session, thirty-one minutes this time.

And then she took a shower.

That was _bad_. I couldn't hear her in there, _what if she said it then_?

 **Oo0oO**

I had made Jessi cry again.

She had such a look of horror on her face, like she'd been gut stabbed.

I really was the _worst_ friend ever.

 **Oo0oO**

The neighbors yard had an apple tree, one big enough for my purposes. The twilight was dark enough that I wouldn't be seen without a flashlight. I had circled around the house once more, counting the bedrooms, one was left. Jessi's.

I waited in the tree and listened to the faint shower.

Why hadn't she cried? Things would be so much simpler if she did. I'd know what to do then.

There were nine points of entry to this house, and there was plenty of items for On Site Procurement. There were hedge-clippers, a bit rusty but still sharp, there was a loose brick in the backyard fire pit, I even smelled gasoline in the garage as I went past.

And that was discounting what was inside the house. Plenty of useful things in there.

I had a single pair of thin gloves on me, I always do, so fingerprints shouldn't be a problem. I could even take my T-shirt off and stay decent with my jacket. The shirt could be repurposed into a mask in a couple of knots.

If she'd said 'no', they were dead.

If she'd said 'stop', they were _dead_.

If she'd cried, they were **dead**.

If they'd slapped her or hurt her in any way, they'd _**die in inches**_. I'm sure I could make it last a few hours even without tourniquets. I'd probably have to use the brick though.

If she'd screamed I would have climbed onto the second floor and gone through a window. Fuck the mask.

But she didn't. She didn't _cry_ , or say _stop_ , or say _no_. She didn't _scream_.

I didn't know what to do.

 **Oo0oO**

I don't know what I said wrong. And all my efforts at assuring her I was fine made it _worse_.

I ran to get more tissues. Apparently a crying girl was fairly common in here, and no one said anything about Jessi in the corner. "Pop" even handed me a glass of cool water for her to clean her face with.

She hugged me hard when I returned, nearly spilling the water, and she got snot in my hair when she did. I didn't mind.

After wiping her face a bit, she calmed down enough to talk.

 **Oo0oO**

The shower stopped.

This was my last chance. Maybe when she was alone?

A few minutes later Jessi entered her room and shut the door. She had a towel wrapped around her, and her hair towel tornado was far superior to mine. I'd have to figure out how she did that so well.

Her face wasn't marred, no bruises or scratches.

Her expression wasn't one I'd seen ever Jessi have before, even when in the bikini booth. The closest I could recall of it would be one I'd seen on some escorts, the pro's who'd been around for a while. A mix of sultry and bland. Able to do anything you wanted.

And then it went away, leaving the Jessi I knew behind. She looked tired and a little sad, like she did at school.

 _Cry, give me a single tear_ , that'd be all I need. Then I'd know what to do.

 **Oo0oO**

I needed to make her feel better, but how? She liked helping people, she was nice like that. Maybe that would do? All it would cost me is a little pride and a secret or two.

 _Anything_ to stop making her feel this bad.

"I have an enormous favor to ask of you." I concluded as gravely as I could, metaphorical plastic cone around my neck.

 **Oo0oO**

She dried and brushed her hair instead. I saw no marks on her neck, no bruises.

She got up and went to her mirror.

Her hands went to her towel.

 _Give me something..._

 **Oo0oO**

"When I was taking your clothes off," I whispered, leaning forward. "Something strange happened when I got down to the underwear."

 _Fuck_ was that a weird sentence to say. But Jessi wasn't crying or looking sad, so I barreled on before I started blushing.

"I saw someone. Someone who wasn't me." I wonder what look my face had, Jessi's was rapt. "I saw someone _girly_ and _sweet_ and _nice_. Like you."

 **Oo0oO**

Her back was to me, and there wasn't a mark, a bruise, a cut. No blood. Not even fingernail marks dug into the skin, _like my hands had right now_.

No bruises on her ass, her legs, her feet.

After a minute she turned around and looked over her shoulder.

 _Give me anything!_

 **Oo0oO**

"Can you help be like that?"

 **Oo0oO**

As she held her hair and examined her back, I studied her front.

Nothing.

Her nipples were red and a bit swollen, but that's what happens when you got felt up. This I knew.

Her cunt was red and puffy. _Used_. But there was no blood, nothing was stuck in her dry. I remembered that lesson from the little pink dildo and the egg. Now I _always_ used spit on them first, blood was a _terrible_ lube.

Ergo she had been wet when she had been fucked.

During my musings she'd fished out of her jean's pockets the underwear I gave her, and put them on with a small smile. Then she reached behind her dresser, not in it, and pulled out a nightie she'd hidden back there.

It covered her from her neck to her feet, even her arms were covered to her wrists.

She looked even more like Jessi than _ever_.

And I had no reason to kill her father or her brother.

 **Oo0oO**

"Could you help me be a nice girl like you?"

That sweet little thing I saw in the mirror would be _perfect_ for Dave.

 _Then I would be perfect for Dave._

 **Oo0oO**

As the lights in her room dimmed I sat in the tree and thought. _Hard_.

There were only two possible conclusions I could draw. Each conclusion was exclusive of the other, and each solution also excluded the other.

If I was right, and she meant what she said about doing and being things for love, then she was like me, willing to do _whatever_ it took. She wanted them, and she wore the clothes like I wore the suit.  To win.

If so, I'd respect her choice and leave it be. I'd be a fucking hypocrite otherwise.

If I was wrong... well, I'd be making preparations for that too. I'd have to find out if the mother knew about all this, or if they just waited until she left. And I'd have to find out what their blood type was.

I could make them last for _days_ with blood transfusions and tourniquets.

What blood type did Jessi have?

" _Mindy..._ "

 **Oo0oO**

Two minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom, cheeks lightly pink.

"Hand wash, hang to dry." She whispered as she discretely passed 'it' to me.

It vanished into my pockets with a quiet nod.

"Let me know tomorrow what you feel when you wear them."

 **Oo0oO**

I froze. Was I spotted?

I looked up, expecting to see her looking at me. Glaring at me. _Hating me_.

 **Oo0oO**

Jessi was relaxed and smiling happily. Despite our height difference she had grabbed my arm and was leaning against me as we walked.

God damn I wish I could be as girly as she could. Dave would be a snap with those skills.

 **Oo0oO**

Jessi was in bed, covers up to her neck.

Her knees were making a small tent.

The covers moved slowly.

" _Mindy..._ " Her low moan was nothing like I'd heard tonight.

 **Oo0oO**

She pulled away from me.

"That's how you walk home with someone." She smiled slightly. "Did you like it?"

It had felt nice. I nodded.

"Next time you can practice on me."

 **Oo0oO**

I jumped out of the tree and ran. I cleared the neighbor's fence in seconds.

 **Oo0oO**

Life was so much simpler with Daddy. He'd point, I'd kill. I didn't need to worry about _friends_ , or _families_ , or _feelings_. After a while, I knew what he wanted dead without him saying a word. Just a look.

When I was perfect I didn't even need that.

I hurried home, the matinee was likely almost done, and Dave might call after he got home.

 **Oo0oO**

It was quiet and dark when I got home. The only message on the machine was from Marcus telling me where he hid a fifty for takeout (as if I hadn't already found it, _always_ check the fridge.), and my phones were quiet.

Then I got an email on my good phone. Sadly it wasn't Dave, but the Doc.

After reading his instructions, I went to the fridge, grabbed the milk and went to the sink.

I chugged a mouthful and waited, looking at the microwave's clock.

After a minute passed I spat it into the sink. There were chunks. my tongue tasted _terrible_.

So the glands were messing with my taste. Good to have that confirmed.

I'll just have to swallow quickly from now on.

 **Oo0oO**

The delivery came with free egg rolls. Damn.


	42. Chapter 38

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 38

 _Author's Note:_

 _And there goes a month of my life._

 _Well, it was a learning experience._

 _How do I ensure I never, ever have to do that again._

 _This chapter will be a touch short, but I have to get back into the swing of things. Also, I have a mountain of work to catch up on._

 _Onwards!_

* * *

Welp, no sense delaying the inevitable.

After I ate, washed, did my homework, checked for emails, and prepared my room for World War IV.

After that.

 **Oo0oO**

Fuck. Here we go.

Time to cross off as many things as I could.

I checked for bugs a sixth time. I stuffed a spare blanket against the window to muffle vibrations in case they were using infrared to measure sounds. I even turned on the shitty boy band to medium.

Then I snuck into the basement.

Just to be sure.

 **Oo0oO**

Here we go. For real.

One more bug sweep, bring down the mirror and items from my room, angle the light just so for best...

 _Goddamnit_! No more stalling! Clothes off now!

 **Oo0oO**

Finally naked, I stared hard at myself in the mirror.

Normal? It's me with tits, check.

Cunt? Not leaking, check.

Strange urges? None so far, check.

This is me. Base standard. Feeling normal. Maybe a couple dozen mosquito bites. Stupid May warmth.

All right, test one. Does whatever happens to me got anything to do with Jessi?

Fuck I hope not, this is strange enough as it is.

I grabbed the thong and and brought it to my nose. Deep breaths, inhale it like a fucking pedo.

It smelled like Jessi all right.

After a minute, I looked at myself.

Still me, cunt dry.

I let out a long sigh of relief. I had thought that it might be something about me and Jessi specifically, and let me tell you, that would be downright awkward.

But that left the clothes themselves. Why? Why were they my moustache?

Also, I really need a new phrase to describe it, calling it a moustache was just _weird_.

 **Oo0oO**

First test with the standard stuff.

Panties on! Aaaaand nothing.

I spun in a circle and looked over my shoulder.

Nada.

Hokay, now add a bra. First the A-cup.

Okay, now that is interesting.

I was still me, but there was a difference. I looked... girlish, like that. It was like a layer on top, pushing down on me. It was also somehow _more_ than the last time I tried on a bra. More tits perhaps?

Side note, this one was getting pretty tight, I could feel it dig into my shoulders just a little bit. According to the websites the straps shouldn't dig in...

I smiled. And the reflection looked nicer. It was subtle, but there. _Not me_.

The B-Cup, which was still loose, but didn't dig into my shoulders, made me look less girlish, but more... mature? More something. But less like me. Less like Hit Girl?

Off with the panties. The effect weakened, but was still there.

Definitely the clothes.

I reached for the thong. It was a slightly different style than the first one, different frills. Still doing it's best to cover as little as possible.

On it went. I looked at the mirror...

And I was gone.

There _she_ was.

I would learn much that night.

 **Oo0oO**

When I finally was finished, tired, sweaty, and sore, I hauled the mirror back up, tossed the leftover Chinese in the fridge, and left a note for Marcus. What a long day this had been.

Pills and Goop followed, I used both hands with the latter as I didn't feel like sitting on the computer tonight. Plus it was fricken late and I'd shower in the morning.

I was really distracted with what revelations I had about myself.

It was hard to put into words. It was _me_ , but an old part of me, but it was back now with all the changes I'd done to myself. It was like the more I drifted away from what was ideal for Daddy and into what was ideal for Dave we were falling out of sync.

Was that a bad thing? I didn't think so. It was only me after all.

Me, _me_ , me... and me too.

And I had confirmed the most important thing. _She_ wanted Dave more than I did, in ways I couldn't understand, which was incredibly terrifying to think about, but also strangely reassuring.

Double the payload means double the chances. And if I faced him head on, maybe she could flank him.

 **Oo0oO**

Marcus had slept in the office and came home in the morning. He was here mostly to shower and get a fresh change of clothes. And come check up on me.

I think he was disappointed that he didn't have the chance to catch me sleeping in. That shows up in a lot of television shows about weird families. But no, a routine is a hard thing to break, and while adding a bit more exercise in my room before the shower and the pills and goop wouldn't exactly fix me, it'd help me find the spots I can improve with what little free time I had.

Getting perfect for Dave was hard work.

Like my breakfast. Oatmeal, a little cinnamon, and a third of a can of evaporated milk. I still didn't like the milk add-on, but I shoveled it in quickly.

"I just don't get how you can eat that." Grumbled Marcus over his bowl of cornflakes. He drank his coffee black but added three spoons of sugar to cornflakes. Why Marcus why?

"Just more fuel to the fire." I replied, mouth half full. "The Doc suggested I up my intake in certain things and these cans are a pretty damn cheap way to do so."

"A bowl of pasty, bland, colorless sludge. My grandpa ate that when he was alive and I was a boy." He shook his head in remembrance. "He hated every damn mouthful and wanted bacon and eggs."

I wasn't exactly singing it's praises myself but meh.

"And eat what, cornflakes?" I countered, pointing at him with my spoon. "You know that was designed to curb masturbation you know."

"Bullshit!" He spluttered, clearly not expecting that angle of attack.

"Yep, John Harvey Kellogg both created it and encouraged people to eat it to discourage masturbation, you can look it up." I could tell he was too. The weird shit you find out when you are bored on a stakeout.

"I meant that stuff I got you a while back." He put back his cornflakes and brandished the barely touched brown box. "The teller said they were the most popular ones kids liked."

I wasn't too keen on the 'kids' crack. I mean I'm young, but I am not a kid. Kids don't do what I do.

"You mean the milk duds?" I'd eaten a handful when I first saw them. They gave me the shakes something fierce.

"Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs are not milk duds, and," He tried to salvage his side of the argument. "Part of a wholesome, nutritious balanced breakfast. Says so right on the box."

I squinted from where I sat by the table. "I see the bowl next to five grapefruits and a dozen bran muffins."

Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. I do have to try to meet him somewhere in the middle. And then it hit me.

"Tell you what. Next time you are here breakfasting with me, I'll match you bowl for bowl." I shrugged. "No sense wasting it."

I tried not to savor too much the frightened animal look in his eyes.


	43. Chapter 38-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 38-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _Slowly the hamster wheel in my mind begins to spin once more._

* * *

It wasn't hard to put into words. I just didn't want them to be seen. I still wasn't sure what I was going to tell Max.

The words were as easy as looking at a mirror.

Where I was functional... she was beautiful.

My muscles were hard, bulging things... her muscles were streamlined. Sporty.

Her head turned this way and that, examining herself. Contemplating.

She didn't fill the bra she wore, but instead of looking childish, she looked inviting. Urging people to try, to feel how little space remained on one so young.

Inevitable potential begging to be touched.

Her gaze drifted downward. She wondered why she wasn't aroused like the last time. After a moment, the only conclusion she could draw was the pill. The superpill, which made everything feel disconnected and then overstimulated when off of it. Her hands touching herself didn't feel like her own.

It widened the gap, much like the clothes did.

And the clothes? Part of her asked. Why did only some of them work?

What was impossible for me to understand was painfully obvious to her.

 _"Silly Hit Girl."_ She whispered. _"Anything Mindy has killed people in won't work."_

And now she wanted to explore herself. Feel the changes first hand.

Her hands began to roam.

Not understanding why, I left her to it.

 **Oo0oO**

Wednesday brought two unpleasant things before lunch.

First, I had to lie to Jessi the next day about not having the time to test it. 'Too many people nearby, couldn't find any alone time', that was my excuse.

She seemed disappointed about that, but I assured her I'd try them the moment I had a quiet house to myself.

And, when I found some way to talk about it. I still wasn't certain what to tell her, tell anyone about it. Could I trust Max with this? I still don't know. I'd leave it vague in the regular diary for him.

The second unpleasant thing was what I saw her do when I came out of the bathroom stall. She had casually popped a pill out of some metal foil and had taken it with a cupped handful of water from the sink. I had seen that happen several times, but like the terrible friend I was, I hadn't paid any attention to it prior.

But now I knew what those were for, I checked, and yesterday I found out why.

"Jessi, why are you taking birth control pills?" I asked quietly.

She froze and then abruptly reached for a paper towel to dry her hands. While her back was to me, I was short, and my view angled with the big bathroom mirror I saw how the look on her face changed as she focused on wiping her hands.

Fear, anger, shame, sadness. Then she composed herself, turned, and started to lie to me with a small smile.

"Angela asked me the same question when she saw them." She began. "I got my periods really early, and they were really bad. The Pill helps keep them regular and manageable."

I nodded while studying her face. Now that I knew how she lied, I'd be ready.

I wouldn't ask today, nor tomorrow, but, soon enough, I'd ask her a few _specific_ questions.

Then I'd know _exactly_ what to do.


	44. Chapter 39

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 39

* * *

Wednesday brought school, headaches, an unpleasant time in the bathroom which I will _not_ put to paper, and a looming sense of dread.

My birthday was coming in ten days. And Angela knew about it. Thus, everyone knew about it.

I blame Dave. Path of least resistance. I'm fairly certain that Angela snuck over and got it out of him yesterday.

My paranoia senses were tingling. And as we all know, someone paranoid is simply someone in possession of more of the facts.

Now, just what were they planning? Did the bathing suits factor into it? Just how had they been planning? For how long? Who? I had a rough guess for when, but I needed more.

Time to discretely gather intel.

 **Oo0oO**

God _damn_ Angela was good. You'd think she didn't have a thing planned.

I almost doubted it myself, but then I saw the little looks she'd give me, every now and then.

Jessi knew something, she kept sending me these odd looks as well. Different ones.

But I had to avoid her for the moment. If I approached, it'd be obvious, too obvious.

Let's see what I can pull outta Dave on our patrol.

 **Oo0oO**

Ah scum. My boots have missed you so.

Several different groups of muggers (was it welfare check day? Tax returns? Something?), a small pack of vandals and one would be arsonist.

A busy and productive night.

Too good in fact, I completely forgot to rake Dave over the coals. But I got the CD player in place for next training session.

 **Oo0oO**

Thursday evening, and I now have a sign on my door. On the inside.

In nice, bold red letters, printed from school paper is my new sign:

 **DON'T FORGET**

 **YOUR SHIRT.**

Marcus and Dave haven't seen it, but if they ever do and they ask, I'll be blaming the fat-suit, even though it ain't its fault.

Long story. Rather, not long, just hella embarrassing.

 **Oo0oO**

Way back, a few weeks ago, I had two things added to my pile, the UV lamp and the fact that I had go topless for at least an hour a day. Let a couple of things get some air.

In my mind, the lamp was the minor annoyance, and the shirtlessness (Stupid autocorrect it is so a word! So is autocorrect! Fuck you!) was the major one. I had door stops and shirts placed in every corner of the room, one under my pillow, and one on the back of the computer chair. If I had a claymore I'd point it at my window.

*Note to self, get a claymore, maybe two. Just in case.*

And then my boobs started to grow. And fucking _how_.

I kept going longer and longer stretches sans top. By midweek I'd come home, head upstairs, and immediately take the upper half of everything off. Fat-suit, shirt, cloth band. I'd go as long as possible.

I wanted maximum gains, like some freak beast in the gym. And like most freak beasts, I was consuming large amounts of "Pharmaceuticals" to ensure those gains. And more dairy. And goop, can't forget that.

Pretty soon, I just got used to it, and then I ignored it. The UV lamp remained a constant fifteen minute irritant though, something I'd have to factor into every single morning. Until I got to the the Brown and new Yellow Jar, both of which didn't need UV, just a lot of rubbing, so it stopped bugging me as well.

And then, I just plumb forgot.

 **Oo0oO**

Wake up, shower, pills, Brown Jar, socks, panties, lower half of fat-suit, fat-panties, fat-jeans, done.

I was halfway down the stairs, wondering what to have for breakfast, when a sun beam made me sneeze, which is weird how they can do that. Said sun beam had reflected off of one of my tits, all shiny with goop.

Oh yeah, the top half of everything. Right...

And there was Marcus coming from the kitchen, hearing my sneeze.

I hauled ass upstairs, beast mode engaged. You ain't never seen anyone move that fast. In my four-legged rush to minimize my profile I swear a nipple clipped a step.

Not exactly my finest moment.

Once in my room and after I got my heart to stop trying to claw itself out of my ribs, I made a note on my phone.

 **Get a damn sign made!**

 **Oo0oO**

The fact that I am writing this right now, in my room after patrol with Dave, in my pajama bottoms and nothing else is not ironic in the least. It is an oxymoron. I have a sign warning me to wear a damn shirt and here I am, not doing that.

 **Side note.**

\- I'm fairly certain whatever they have planned for me does not involve a pool. At least I think so..

\- Also, hand washing sucks _balls_.


	45. Chapter 40

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter X

* * *

I blinked and it was Saturday. Off to the Doc.

I'm sure I did something on Friday, but whatever it was it eludes me and this diary. Meh, not every day needs to be put down, especially if it's the regular crap. It wasn't a training day with Dave, or a patrol so meh.

Dave dropped me off, and would meet me after his own checkup, as was routine.

Inside, nothing had really changed aside of some of the magazines and the air freshener.

The triplets who were in before me were triplet-er if that is such a word. More identical.

Of the athletic ladies, one wasn't here and the one had some really nice guns. Her arms I mean. Was it for tennis?

And the receptionist, well, compared to the last time I really looked at her, had something done to her neck and collar bones.

Anyway, twenty-five minutes on the phone playing games and then the Nazi-Doc was ready to see me.

 **Oo0oO**

He was in a pretty foul mood. Not at a Mega-Nazi level, where I'd have to put him down for the sake of the world, only five point eight Kilo-Nazi's or so.

New pills, Four out, four in, three increases, one decrease.

Next were the needles. Six, two in my armpits again, two in my wrists, and two in my neck. Not even that deep, just a bit under the skin.

Swab, stab, plunge. Swab, stab, plunge. He didn't even enjoy the needles. Not that I did, but it seemed to be the highlight of his day at least.

Was he sick or something?

 **Oo0oO**

We stopped off at the safehouse and got changed, which was for me a chance to take off the fat-suit and instead throw on the vest. Plus a grey hoodie which I used to cover my hair Rocky style.

I've had to do this for a while now, as I still had to keep my gains a secret, and even a sports bra would show now. The vest kept things flat, also it made Dave feel a bit better when I made him wear his while we ran. He had to get used to it to the point he'd feel odd without it. That was key. Also the hoodie covered my hair, which Max had stressed was important. As little of Mindy as possible. Maximum Hit Girl.

The run had me watching Dave from behind, which was nice but also educational. He really was moving better, smoother, and more efficiently. Sadly I can no longer take all the credit anymore.

While it was subtle, I could see that going to the Biker-Doc was helping him. Dave was still a skinny fucker, but he was a slightly bigger one, along the shoulders and legs. Plus he was moving a lot better now. Considering all the huge guys I saw when I was there, I figured the the Biker-Doc was all about appearance, but no, he knew his functionality as well.

And, it also showed me just how much my process with the Nazi-Doc was costing me. To be perfect for Dave meant I could no longer be perfect for what Daddy had made me into.

My lungs had to have lost at least ten percent of their capacity, meaning I couldn't go for as long, or as fast. I was sweating more too.

Jokes about the extra poundage aside, I was carrying more weight, and while I had improved my back a tad by incorporating the Doc's routines into my daily routine, I was going to need to step up in the other areas as well. Even then my limits were going to be smaller than they were.

Also, thanks to all the needles, things all over felt... off. Changing.

It was like I was an Army Jeep, built to go the distance, take a beating, and be refitted to be a pleasure cruiser. The mileage would suffer, as would the sheer amount it could haul.

But there was cushioning and shocks now, and I had cup holders now!

Yeah... I really need to stop trying to do metaphors, or take a real writing class, or something. Shut up.

After the run, we trained a bit, which would be enlightening for both of us.

 **Oo0oO**

"All right," I started, pointing to the mats in the safe house. "That bit at the ice cream shop showed me a pretty good place for us to work on you. Ambush and out of sight responses."

He looked nervous. Good.

"The Wet Willie you got could have been an icepick. Just stick and stir." He looked a bit queasy at my hands stirring his imaginary brains with said imaginary pick.

"Temple, ears, nose, mouth, and a host of spots all over your face and neck. You've got a thick skull Kick Ass, but I take a number 2 pencil to those spots and well, that's all she wrote."

The hoodie came off as I affixed my wig and mask, but kept the T-shirt and jogging pants on, and the vest.

Meeting him in the middle of the mats, I looked up at him grimly.

"The name of this game will be counter-attacks only. No swinging first. I will ambush, you fight it off. First will be a live-fire to see how you react, then I'll show you what to do."

He nodded, ready to begin. His posture fell further when he saw me switch to fingerless gloves and stick both index fingers in my mouth. They came back shiny and wet.

I smiled, marched over to the CD player I had arranged to be here on Wednesday, and flicked it on. That shitty boy band started up, not too loud, but enough to mask my movements.

I circled around him and prepared to strike.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave would learn pretty damn fast that while I had wet fingers, they weren't aiming for his ears.

He got one up his nose, the other one fish-hooked his mouth.

As he struggled to get me off of his back, I switched to a choke hold and had him down in the mats pretty quick.

And then when he got up and I switched the crap songs off, I told him exactly what he did wrong, then gave him a unsharpened pencil in lieu of a knife or shiv.

He tried to stab me. He saw what I did, he learned, and he improved.

We sweated together and made him better.

At one point he started getting hard, and as he was grabbing me from behind trying to stab me with said unsharpened pencil I felt it press against my ass. He hesitated on the stab, and that earned him a shoulder throw, disarm, and a Wet Willie proper.

I pretended not to notice, and after giving him a theatrical sigh about how there was no chance in hell he was going to hurt me, I marched over and grabbed some safety glasses.

As we got ready for the my next demonstration of defense I looked over my shoulder at him warned him if he hesitated like that again, I'd show him the difference between a regular shoulder throw and one that could dislocate his shoulder.

"Not to worry, I'll pop it back in nice and gentle like." I said with my nicest smile.

This time as he grabbed me he pressed against my ass but didn't hesitate.

He was learning. So much so I think I am going to keep him at it for a while.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave didn't know about any secret birthday day plan as far as I could tell. Even when I strangled him and used a cheezy German accent. Silly Dave, chuckling while being asphyxiated just gets you out quicker.

So either Dave didn't know, or Dave knew and something more fearsome than I was keeping him mum about it.


	46. Chapter 40-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 40-C Secret Diary

* * *

Naturally there was a big chunk of Friday I don't want Max to know, and if I mentioned the rest of the day, he'd notice the huge gap. But will he understand the laziness of soon to be teenagers? Let's find out.

Friday afternoon had me take my first ever skipping of class, not that I was sick, but as I explained to Marcus in over the phone, I had to help a friend out.

He understood, and when I took off for the afternoon skipping school, the inevitable phone call he got from the school wouldn't be a problem.

I turned to Jessi. "We're good to go. I'll just need to stop off at a store to pick up a few things."

 **Oo0oO**

During Gym, which I was as always sitting out of, I found Jessi joining me in the library. She had been walking oddly all day, like she'd been kicked in the pubic arch. She blamed her period for coming on hard, the rumor mill blamed her boyfriend. I knew the likely cause, but couldn't say anything.

She sat across from me as I was reading and just stared at me, her expression a mix of the ones she had at the ice cream shop. Horror, pity, determination, longing and several others I couldn't quite place.

"Hey." She said, finally breaking the silence. She looked tired.

 **Oo0oO**

She wanted to talk, and she wanted to be away from all the prying looks those at the school were giving her.

And so, after a phone call to Marcus, we headed off. First stop to a nearby convenience store.

"Bug spray?" She asked. I nodded in response.

"Both the spray and the lotion. May skeeters get ugly after dark."

Plastic bag in tow, we marched towards a nearby park.

Once we were seated at the bench I turned to her and waited for her to begin.

When she didn't and the first minute dragged on to the second, then the third I carefully reached out and took one of her hands. That's what people did right? In the movies?

"Look." I said. "You obviously want to talk about something, but if you don't want to start with it, how about something else?"

I looked her square in the eyes. "You can tell me anything. I will keep it secret." I waited for a lie.

Instead, her hands started to tremble.

I don't what I did honestly. Maybe it was my expression, my tone, the fact that I was holding her hand. Whatever it was that I did she started crying and hugged me again, pressing her face to my shoulder.

And I, out of reflex hugged her back and tried very hard to figure out why I was such a terrible friend.

 **Oo0oO**

As the crying quieted down to sobs and the occasional hiccup, I started patting her on the back a bit awkwardly.

I felt terrible. I'm three for three for making her feel bad.

"I really am a terrible friend." I whispered to her. "I keep making you cry."

That earned me a sad little laugh. "It isn't you, it's me." Ah what a stereotypical thing to say. Glad to see the stuff on TV isn't completely bullshit.

She snuggled closer, encouraging me to wrap an arm around her. I did, and wondered how to make Dave do that. I really had to learn all her tricks.

"Let's start with something and work our way from there." I suggested. I felt her hair move as she nodded.

"I'll start." She whispered.

 **Oo0oO**

Jessi's Mom was leaving the family.

Not having a Mom, I didn't know what to feel or say about that. Dave didn't say much about what his was like when she was alive. Television and Movies and books always seemed to treat them as some sort of bedrock, a foundation on what a family is built. Single Dad's raising kids alone are always treated like boats in a storm, trying to staying afloat. But Mom's? They were different.

And Jessi's? She was walking away.

Apparently when I saw her leave, it was a routine she had. "Work at the office." which translated into "Go off and fuck some guy". The fact that the Brother and Father took time to... partake... of Jessi meant they actually looked forward to it.

Were I to guess, she took the fact that no one seemed to notice or care made her go more and more and eventually... She announced she was leaving on Wednesday, packed and left on Thursday, and Friday...

Friday Jessi was walking funny.

As I listened to her talk my mind was putting points on two bulleted lists.

For one column, Jessi could be sad about losing her Mom, but still be getting what set out to do. If so, I'd be there for her, hold her like this, and do my best not to make her cry anymore.

For the other column, the bad column, this added two things. Did Jessi's Mom know and was leaving _because_ of it, and if so, why wasn't she taking Jessi with her?

And that lead to: Do I add Jessi's mom to the list?

"Hey Mindy." Her voice cut through my chain of thoughts. "I've been meaning to ask you about something."

"Yeah?"

"What are you wearing under your clothes?" She stuck a finger down the back of my neck and rubbed the edge of the fat suit. "When I hugged you in the bathing suit store I thought I felt something odd, and on the walk home I felt it again. What is that?"

 **Oo0oO**

I grew still. I was expecting it to happen one day, eventually. A mistake, a wardrobe malfunction, a fight. I had things planned, things to say, to defuse or distract, right up to putting someone into a coma.

But... Perhaps something else would work here.

"That," I drew her back to look me in the eye. "is part of one of my big secrets." I tried to convey with my face just how serious this was. "One that, if revealed, would destroy me and undo all that I have fought for and suffered."

She winced as my fingers gripped her shoulders hard. "A secret I will kill anyone to protect. And their family."

"But." my grip relaxed. "I will tell you it if you give me one in return. A secret that will destroy your life. One that you'd rather die than get out. Mutually assured destruction."

This was a gamble. If I could take her in as a confidant, I could have access to a source of information about my biggest weakness. Sex. Seduction. Being a _girl_ and not just being me with tits strapped on. Things she was clearly far better than I at. With her help I could be perfect faster and with less trial and error. Less risk for me and Dave.

But would she bite?

"Will you give me that secret? And please do not lie. This close I will be able to tell if you do." Plus I already knew some of them.

Will she give me what I already knew? I stared at her without blinking. Without breathing. Everything I could think of to make her not want to divulge. She had to really want to, this couldn't be on a whim.

I gave her a minute, blinked, then a second. Another blink and I breathed out slowly. "I see."

And I pulled away from her. She lurched like she was gut shot.

"If there was nothing else?"

She was trembling.

"Well then-" Her hand grabbed mine as I tried to rise. She was shaking, hard, and trying to force the words out.

"Please..." Her voice was so sad, but I had to be firm.

"Not here?" I offered. "Somewhere more private?" she nodded slowly.

"I know just the place."

 **Oo0oO**

Bolthole #6. I will never say exactly how many there are, or where they are, but it was sufficient to say Daddy and I could retreat in pretty much any direction and have a spot to hide in.

This one wasn't too far from the park, maybe an hour on foot, and I shared a bit of bug spray with her.

The big difference between a safehouse and a bolthole is disposability. And if you can take a shit without going outside.

I hadn't been to #6 in ages, not since Daddy was alive. There was medicine, ammo, spare small arms, a couple cots, a bit of stolen power from an extension cord, a couple week's of MRE's, a flat of bottled water.

Be it ever so humble.

I led her through the hole in the chain fence. The rusty looking padlock opened with barely a click. The door bumped against the bags of quicklime and a shovel leaned in the corner. I disarmed the string that'd trigger the bomb that'd burn this place down.

"This," I started, "is one of me and Daddy's boltholes. For when things go bad." The nostalgia was strong here. I could almost hear Daddy listening to the police scanner in the back and grumbling about their poor response times..

"No one will hear anything that goes on here." No matter what it is I have to do. I'd use a silencer just in case.

"This is part of my Big Secret, and, I will take a chance with you Jessi." I gestured for her to follow me in. As she entered I shut the door and locked it. My phone provided light until I could flick an old light bulb on.

"I will go first."

I gestured to what was Daddy's cot. Since she didn't look around, she didn't see Daddy's older suit in the bag under the cot.

"Have a seat while I change."

 **Oo0oO**

Privacy was one of the many sacrifices in a bolthole. A safehouse typically had at least a bathroom. with a door.

I took off my clothes.

I hadn't changed in front of anyone since Daddy. Even with Dave I used the safehouse bathroom to get most of it swapped out. And now, with all this, I've been extremely careful not to advertise my changes or show skin.

I stopped at the fat-suit.

"I use this to disguise myself. It didn't initially matter but after Night Bitch..." I trailed off and shrugged. "It keeps certain assholes from knowing which school exactly to plant bombs in." That set her eyes wide.

Then I reached for the clasps on the sides.

Pulling the suit's top off was _heavenly_. The May heat and the tightness was making me a sweaty mess. Looking at the insides I wondered if I could scrape away room for the tits? Do I own these or are the rented? I'd ask Max tonight.

"When did you get those?" Her finger wasn't pointing at my face. I looked down. Ah yes, cloth band covered boobs, sweaty ones. A lot more than she knew I had.

"These... are a recent development." I said lamely. "A topic for another time."

Off went the lower part of the fat-suit along with my shoes, leaving me in clad only my panties, cloth band, and socks. I sat down on my cot and pulled out the body bag underneath the legs.

Don't knock these, they are tough, they seal well, and could keep a corpse from leaking on the way to the woodchipper out of town. It's not like my things got dry-cleaned at the local laundromat.

In it a spare suit. It should still fit I hoped. It had been a bit.

As I pulled pieces out I noted from the corner of my eye that her eyes were going over my body, over the muscles. It was different than when someone was sizing me up for a fight though.

I ignored it and got suited up. The vest was thankfully a soft IIIA, which meant I didn't have to squash things against a plate.

She figured it out by the time I got my wig out. Still, she remained quiet as I got ready.

 **Oo0oO**

"Hello Jessi." I said, dressed to the nines. "I'm Hit Girl. I kill bad people."

It only took a bit of slight of hand to sneak the gun from inside the bag to be tucked behind the cape in the back of my belt. The silencer on it should be good for a double-tap.

I hoped it wouldn't come to that. But for Dave, I had to take the chance.

I needn't have worried. Her eyes were... something I couldn't understand. Awe perhaps?

"Hello Hit Girl, I'm Jessi." She said, almost dreamily. "I sleep with my Daddy. And my brother."

 **Oo0oO**

After a half hour of talking we had to go. She had much to do in her house now with her mother gone and all.

As we walked back to her home I practiced that walking leaning thing she did.

It was _hard_. I couldn't lead, nor be dragged along. No gripping the arm, I had to be gentle, guiding, and following.

Jessi patiently pointed out my mistakes, corrected my hands on her arm, and didn't roll her eyes at my less than lady-like stride.

Otherwise we walked in silence. We'd said what we needed to in the privacy of the bolthole. I'd go over the recording I made later.

Once in front of her house she hugged me hard. I hugged her back.

"You're sure?" I said quietly. She nodded, chin bumping on my shoulder.

"Yeah. I still love them, no matter what they do."

After a minute we let go. I went off to put on body armor, a mask, and train Dave.

And she went off to do chores, dinner, and get fucked.


	47. Chapter 41

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 41

 _Author's Note: Fleshing this one out a bit more. I think I ran it too close to the brain._

 _I should definitely look into a Beta._

* * *

Sunday brought me to Max, and we had much to talk about.

Cato the Maid-man was nearly perfect, it was so hard to tell. Even the new lace choker around the neck looked proper and not the concealer for the adams-apple it was.

After handing him my duffel bag with the leftover jars as instructed, I tried to knife him in the balls.

Gently of course.

He blocked correctly with his own thin knife. Excellent!

I approve immensely of people striving to achieve. _Is it not good, they who perfect their path_?

Max's parlour had been changed again. Things had been moved, making room for me to walk about the large table had been pushed to the wall, no, not pushed, lifted. The rug had no signs or the heavy thing being shoved. As always, the chairs remained, though closer to each other. Still out of easy knifing range. It also smelled mildly of vanilla for some reason. Pleasant, but not overpowering.

Was he expecting a fashion shoot? For me to march around in heels or something? They had those in the movies from time to time.

It was time to create the new Mindy. Or at least get the initial sketches out of the way.

 **Oo0oO**

"Please sit, we have much to discuss, and never enough time to comfortably finish this." Max had a tight schedule. Surprise, surprise.

I sat, a small fold out table was roughly beside both of us. Tea freshly poured was steaming gently. Next to it was a pen and a notepad, and as always, a brown unmarked folder. The lack of labels on those things was irritating. How did he know which folder was which? What if he grabbed the wrong one?

"First off," He started, steepling his fingers together. "Now that the initial shock has worn off, expect another session with Dave before the end of the month. Likely at or just after your birthday, depending how it goes."

My heart raced a bit at hearing that, but I didn't let it show, or at least I think I did.

"I see." and I sipped my tea. Hmm, a bit too much cream in it I think.

A changing palate I suppose.

"After that happens, you will have to begin the changes to the 'Mindy' that you display to Dave and the others. This distinction will allow you to advance Hit Girl increasingly into position."

I studied my teacup but said nothing.

He paused and studied my still calm expression. "I must say, you are taking this much more calmly than I expected."

Definitely too much cream. "Revelations will do that to you Max."

"Revelations you can share I can only hope." Max was enjoying this. Or his tea. Probably both. I nodded absently.

"Ones that may require a complete overhaul of the scenario you have made."

That perked his interest immensely, but he held firm. "Max, may we be honest with each other for a moment or two?"

"Probably not, but you never know." He reached for his own tea, now cooled to the temperature of his liking.

"First off," I kept my eyes on his cup. "When were you going to tell me about the glands?" His hand paused only for a fraction of a second in front of his teacup, but I knew I had scored a hit. "Second, why go to all the effort to hide it? It only made me work harder to figure it out." I studied him.

His eyes lost focus on me again. He was seeking the flaw, the mistake.

This time I cut him off. Best not let him get too wound up. "I took a hand grenade with me to the Doc and demanded _everything_. He printed out two hundred pages. You returned **one-fifty**." I emphasized the word 'One-fifty' carefully. "Even if my diary on your computer was modified, even if you changed my the attachment I had on my email, I never write or say 'One hundred and fifty' ever. Hundreds stand alone when I write."

He looked a mix of amused and annoyed.

"Such is the woes of not being a God," He muttered. "You often have to outsource."

 **Oo0oO**

Max had indeed been paying someone for discretionary control of my computer and the laptop he had provided me.

"He was not to tip you off, nor edit anything." Max noted, looking displeased. "Done properly the redacted papers should have still taken up the same amount of pages. A simple increase in font size and spacing, even I know that."

He shook his head. "Sloppy." like it was a death sentence.

It probably was.

"He was also not supposed to edit your diary, as that would show that I had access to it. That was only to be used as a last resort if you suffered a Break."

He didn't need to do anything but imply a capital letter there. He'd shown me the folders of what was done to me after all. A knife edge is sharp, but too sharp and it could Break. And Daddy honed me quite keen. It was why I needed him so desperately after all. He knew how to hold me and use me without being cut.

I nodded, suspecting as much, which earned me a slight grimace from Max.

"I can only assume you have been redacting your diary in response."

I nodded again.

"Meaning you have either another Diary, or have internalized your redactions. Either way, should you Break, any critical information to help you will not be there."

He didn't bother to see if I nodded about any of it, it wouldn't help.

"At this point, I can only implore you to keep writing in that diary, and have my assurances that I will only look should the situation become dire."

At my shrug he sighed and rolled his neck slightly, the extra cracks and pops showing he'd had bones broken in it in several places.

"Very well then, let me tell you what I will about the glands."

 **Oo0oO**

"At this point you must have some idea what they do, and, that you have decided to let me know that you know means you also realize the reason why I tried to keep the knowledge of their existence from you." His hands were once again steepled in front of him, his face calm.

"You have several sets of glands implanted, some of the Doctor's finest work, each with a specific goal in mind. Do you know what that goal is?"

"To seduce Dave?" I ventured. He shook his head.

"To make Dave amendable to being seduced by a child." He corrected. "The distinction is quite important."

"They are as I suspect you surmise, to evoke pleasure in Dave. Someone with damaged nerves would indeed feel much less pain, but, they also would feel much less of everything, including pleasure. So, with them, your sweat, breath, and mouth in order of increasing intensity are now set to stimulate him into feeling more of everything."

He paused to look me in the eyes. "I assume once you've figured that out you proceeded to test it yes?" And note exactly how little I gave away.

Rubbing against him, breathing at or near him, the Wet Willies...

I nodded.

"Had you known from the start you would have most likely done something extremely foolish, and, likely ended with either you or he dying. Possibly both."

This was true.

I would have made a bee-line for his crotch. And he would have taken a swan dive off the rooftop after I was done. Then I'd join him. I get it now, in hindsight, after everything I've done. But...

"When were you going to tell me about them?" I asked quietly.

"In the ideal situation, never." He held up his hand to forestall my complaints. "Were you less intelligent, or more prideful, you would have taken your results as due to your zeal of practice and repetition of training and simply thought you were just that good. Since you are neither it would have ideally came after your third or fourth time with him, otherwise."

"In a week, you will be twelve. " He paused to finish off his tea, before gesturing for another cup.

"You are, despite your upbringing, woefully ignorant on the consequences of your actions. Or perhaps because of it, as I suspect your father decided it would be easier that way for you. To _be_ a consequence instead of thinking about them."

As fresh tea was being poured by the Maid-man, I shook my head when he got to the cream.

"Tell me, would you happen to know what Dave did on the very first day he had free?"

I shrugged, probably went and fucked Katie was my best guess. It was a Tuesday wasn't it?

"He went to a playground and looked at children."

My blood ran cold. At my look Max smiled and took another sip.

"Actions have consequences my dear. You didn't just relieve yourself of your oral chastity and him of a deposit to Katie. You also destroyed something he thought of as a cornerstone of his character. That he was inherently a good person."

 **Oo0oO**

He quietly enjoyed watching my shaking hands try to hold the tea steady, I was failing miserably.

"He had to know you see." He placed his cup on the table to free his hands to gesture. "Here he was, numb to much of what the world had to offer. He had the unattainable girl of his dreams regularly in his bed, only she felt little better than his hands and kleenex used to. The only time he felt more like himself was with you, 'fighting scum' as I believe you put it."

I put my own tea back on the table before I burned my hands any further. With trembling hands I reached for the napkin set for me, cotton and pure white, and started dabbing at the tea on my fingers. Staining the cloth.

"And then an eleven year old girl got onto her knees and gave him the most pleasure he had ever experienced in the entirety of his life."

I clenched the dirty napkin so hard a knuckle popped. The Maid-man tensed subtly, I could hear it in his stance as he shifted on the hardwood floors. A Maid's shoes were not meant for stealth.

"And so, he _had_ to know. Was it you, or was it children?" Max's voice was laced with false cheer. "You'll be happy to know that he is almost entirely certain that it's you."

 **Oo0oO**

"Do not worry, this was expected." He folded his hands together carefully. "Indeed it was _required_ to happen."

"Had it not, we would have to push back everything until you were fourteen at the earliest to let the good Doctor force you to grow upwards and out." He shrugged slightly before dropping his hands into his lap. "Maybe thirteen and a half with surgery to break and lengthen your bones and modify your ribs. His proposal showed... promise."

The same age as Jessi was now... was that a special age or something?

The Maid-man began serving scones and jam. Freshly baked, hand-made perhaps?

"Another session or two with you will cement with him that it is Hit Girl and _only_ Hit Girl that is what feels so good. It is imperative that we ensure he remain convinced that it is not your age." Session sure sounded neat and clinical.

"He will likely suspect it's due to the one fantasy Katie cannot provide but you can; a tryst between superheroes. An extension of the what he feels when he fights crime."

I nibbled on my scone politely. Grape Jelly? No, a touch too tart. Gooseberries.

"And thus, we must make sure that Mindy remains a close friend and nothing more. When he feels nothing sexual towards her, you, then he will allow Hit Girl to act more boldly. And you will carefully and methodically give him surfeit in that regard." Give him anything he wants.

Speech complete he reached for his cup.

"So." He looked at me carefully. "Have you made any progress with who and what Mindy will be? I have some suggestions, but since you will be the one living it persistently, you must be willing and able."

I pondered as I ate. Max gave me time.

Now, what exactly to reveal?

And then I began.

 **Oo0oO**

Max's gaze was once again inward.

"Interesting. Not wholly unexpected, especially how you were raised, but certainly it will make things much easier if there is such a foundation to build upon."

He frowned and then nodded. "Yes, I can make something of this."

His eyes focused on me. " _Someone_ rather."

He began jotting items down on a notepad. Even though I could read upside down most things, I couldn't follow the language. British short hand perhaps?

"I will have to call in a specialist. I will let you know when she arrives. Be prepared to spend several days with her. Do not worry about Dave, he will find himself sick for a few days."

He nodded towards Cato, who shrugged as he collected the tea cups. "Consider that your advance warning by the by."

"Lastly, after your birthday, when the Doctor completes what he calls 'The Cycle', we will have to get you new padded suits. Thank you for not gouging yours, as after returning them and getting the larger set, we should be able to get a bit more customization in place. All of this will be done the next time we meet."

At my perplexed look he rolled his eyes. "They do deal with child actors and midgets amongst others, and of the said two groups, one tends to grow every season."

Asshole.

 **Oo0oO**

After clearing off everything, the Maid-man returned with a small plastic bag which he handed to Max.

"Since I could not put anything beyond the most broad strokes on your new character, this will be the first thing you change as Mindy."

He pulled the small bottle out of the bag. It was small, and completely unlabeled.

"It is a very specific perfume. After your second session with Dave, this will be the first thing worn by you only when you are not Hit Girl."

He looked at my wrinkling nose with bemusement.

"Worry not, it's extremely mild, compared to what many slather on. Just a light touch on your pulse points."

Placing the bottle back into the bag, Cato handed it to me.

"As a matter of fact, to test it with you to see if it was amendable, I've had the very room sprayed." He gestured to the room about him.

"Vanilla. What do you think?"

 **Oo0oO**

I only write this now after a visit from Cato. He gave me a grim nod from the tree by my window-side and left.

The old computer snooper, the one reading and nudging things, is dead.

Max might tolerate a mistake or two, but not that many, especially considering how much effort he was putting into this.

So I say this to you, the new computer guy or chick, be careful.

Be respectful, and _don't be sloppy_.

I'll be checking this carefully in the future.


	48. Chapter 41-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 41-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _First a GoG Summer Sale and then a Steam one. Eesh. So much for free time. I'll limp along as I cackle and play my cheap games._

 _Onwards!_

* * *

Of course Max didn't cover so many things he could have. He gave me literally what I asked for and nothing more.

I wanted to know about 'The Glands' and so he told me. He just didn't explain anything else. I had them in my mouth, armpits and at the base of my lungs yes. But what about the shots below the belt? My legpits? My neck and wrists? What did they all do?

The Doc, even if he didn't bother to explain what the other ones did exactly, he did tell me the some things about each batch. Some were inactive, at least it was implied. Many were directly affecting the glands in my body, and no doubt some of it was tit related. But it wasn't enough, and I needed more info. How could I become perfect for Dave without knowing what was going on?

But Max had given something very important away, something I could use.

I pondered this as I took my evening pills.

 **Oo0oO**

In comparison to Friday, Saturday was merely interesting. And irritating.

The problem with anything past 3 kilo-nazis I was quickly finding, is that it's hard to pull a decent sentence out of the Doc about anything.

"What do these ones do?" The needles weren't aiming at anything I knew was there aside of the armpits again. Those were probably more for the lymph nodes again. Fun times await me tonight.

"Page three." And lobbed a folder with about a dozen pages in it. I caught it neatly. "Read it later."

Okay...

He examined my tits, never touching, having me turn this way and that as he manipulated a lamp.

"Good. The Brown Jar can be returned next week but keep using it in the morning. Discontinue the Yellow Jars and return them to Max tomorrow." Did he and Max coordinate these things? Or did he assume I saw him every weekend? Dangerous to ask, it might tip Max off.

This," he brought forth a fiery Orange Jar. It even looked poisonous. "This will be the final jar in this treatment cycle." It was carefully placed it on the examining table next to me, staying well out of arms reach.

He looked at me squarely in the eye. "There will be moderate discomfort with this one."

Translation, I was in for a world of hurt.

"It will be assisting with forcing the chemicals lacing your tissues out. " He explained. "After that will come a period of rest, and then we will begin anew."

I looked at the jar, then down at my chest. "You gonna show me how this goes on?"

"Page eight."

He saw my growing anger at his callousness and raised an eyebrow in response.

"Girl, do you take me for a fool?" He crossed his arms and leaned forward, matching me glower for glower, still a step or two out of kicking distance. "Do you think what you are doing hasn't been tried by other patients of mine? 'Hands on treatment' has been around as long as leeches. Longer even."

Age and experience had his glower grind down my own. As I faltered and started to crumble in both posture and resolve, he sighed and shook his head.

"While admittedly nearly all attempts to curry favor with me has been from ladies looking for financial appeasement, not all have tried because of money. Ego and the urge to control others, often simply because they can or because they think themselves as beautiful and that is what the beautiful do. I am and have been literally the first man in range for trying out new eyes, breasts, faces and skins."

"I will admit, I did cross a line, but it was a line you marched forward most cleverly." He was dourly impressed. "I haven't slipped up like that in over ten years."

"So, you won't be helping me anymore?" I wasn't too certain how much longer I could pull the sad little girl routine off. I'm getting too old for this shit.

"I gave you that folder didn't I? Try reading it before you tremble your lip at me."

Damnit. I'll need a new approach.

Soon after that I left, leaving the vanilla smelling building behind me.

 **Oo0oO**

I flicked on the UV lamp, went to the bottom drawer, got out some fresh gloves, and cracked open the Orange Jar.

It made my eyes water.

On it went before I went back to my phone, gloves in the trash.

 **Oo0oO**

And then there was Jessi. My recording sounded fairly decent despite my shirt covering the microphone portion of my phone. The camera peeked out just over the cuff of a sleeve.

I watched how her eyes narrowed at my lack of surprise at her big reveal. I could practically hear her thoughts.

- _Why aren't you surprised?_

- _How could you know?_

 _-Were you watching?_

Fortunately I had prepared before hand what to say about her, if, y'know, I couldn't take it anymore and started bashing their heads in with a brick. Still, it'd work here for the most part.

"It was obvious from the way you were walking that something had happened in that area." I started, gesturing to her waist. My hand briefly flickered in front of the camera. "I walked like that once, way back when I took a boot there by a lucky junkie. But I doubt you were getting into fights. Leaving out sprains from gymnastics or extreme yoga, that left fucking. But your boyfriend, a teenage fella with friends to impress, says he hasn't fucked you, and he looks rather pissed off about that fact. That didn't leave much, though I hadn't expected both of them, just one or the other. Or, you know, your mom whoring you out."

She actually looked a bit shocked at my thoroughness. I shrugged in response, the cot rocked the camera slightly.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've come across it." And dealt with it in short order.

"No, Mom wasn't a part of all of this." Her eyes met mine. "It was just me and them."

I believed her. But I'd still be checking.

"So," I started. "Since you know who I am and what I do, and you are not immediately asking for help, I can assume killing your father and brother and burying their bodies in the woods are not on the table?"

I fast forwarded past her panicking, smiling slightly as she flailed her arms and paced at double or triple speed, voice all squeaks. When she finally sat down I resumed regular speed.

"-nd you have to promise me Mindy. Hit Girl. Promise me you won't hurt them. _Please_."

I wasn't smiling then.

"I promise. I promise I won't touch unless you tell me to."

Or now.

Even watching of an awkward silence feels awkward, so I skipped ahead. Most of it was me explaining in a bit more detail how I grew up.

"- that, from the way it sounded I thought your dad was, you know, like mine, only with beatings." Jesse sounded so embarrassed.

I heard my self chuckle, which is weird as it doesn't sound like me. At least I think it doesn't.

"No, Daddy used escorts for that."

Not that I would've said no if he'd wanted to, he was Daddy after all.

I even tried once, before I was perfect, thinking it'd help save a little money for that sweet AR-15 I'd seen cut down to my size. I'd seen how much money he handed those ladies.

Daddy just kissed me on the forehead and told me that I wasn't made to do that. And to get out of his shower. I didn't know anything back then. Not like I do now.

"Now," I heard myself interrupt. "Enough about me and my Dad. Tell me about yours. And your brother."

 **Oo0oO**

I switched off my phone, locked it, and set it on the charger. Off went the UV lamp.

Then I grabbed two towels, set one on the sheets to lay on, and, in a practice that had become routine for me, draped the other one carefully over top. No messes on the sheets or blanket.

Monday looms.


	49. Chapter 42

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 42

 _Author's Note:_

 _Cackling madly on my mountain of cheap games, but I still will release when I have a decent chunk done._

* * *

I circled Dave, pencil at the ready.  
A stupid tune about how the lead singer will love me and only me until the end of days is in the air.  
He was tense, ready for the spring, the attack.  
Anticipation was making him sweaty, but he refused to turn to look..  
Three times for this particular motion he had failed and taken an eraser butt to the jugular. He had yet to figure out how to get me off his back before get got penciled.  
I would tell him the trick only if he asked me nicely. He knew this. He'd figured out the last two without me though, and his pride was making him stay silent.  
Just like me when Daddy was using a blunt knife.  
I grew closer, and he tensed, almost twitching. Stepping hard to his left, letting him hear it, before leaning to my right and I sprang into the air.  
He knew the left was a feint, but in his zeal to prevent going too far, he overcompensated to the right.  
And then we were struggling, me on his back trying to drive the pencil forward, him trying to get me off his back.  
I was too too well anchored to be thrown and he couldn't get enough leverage.  
And then the pencil touched his neck.

Loser. Dave!

"Damnit!" Such a gracious loser. I reached out a hand to help him up.

"You know you can just ask..." I teased. I'd even tell him, and he knew it. But he was stubborn, like me.

"I will figure it out." A promise, and a threat. Good stuff Dave.

"Suck you do, yes." My best Yoda impression was terrible, but it got my point across. I did ride his back enough, though the little green Muppet didn't try to shank Luke all that much. It'd be pretty cool actually, thinking about it. "Tomorrow again, you try."

"Do or Do Not, there is no Try." He replied almost instantly by reflex. "Though at this point, it's a whole bunch of Do Not."

"And with that, we're onto the next bit, the kidneys and the liver." I held up a finger. "I know, I know. 'But Hit Girl'," my voice as low and dopey sounding as I could go. "I'm wearing armor I don't need to know about that. And you'd be wrong." I made my butterfly knife spin and dance. "Bullet-proof does not mean stab-proof. With sufficient leverage, sharpness, and a bit of muscle, you can part kevlar pretty easily. That's why there's a thing called stab vests." I flipped it closed with a flourish. "The thing is, it's very easy to shoot someone from a distance, out of range of those." I nodded towards his batons leaning against the wall. "And from me. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't know what to do, how to twist, and, sadly, you won't be wearing armor all the time."

On went the third disc of that boy band. Immediately his hackles began to rise and there was a slight tensing of his shoulders. I smiled, and enjoyed watching him hate my smile.

I began to circle him once again.

 **Oo0oO**

In an effort to simplify the complex mess that was my life right now, I aimed to streamline what I could. Everything was broken down into three categories: Training Dave, Improving myself, and everything else.

To start, this final week before my birthday was either going to be a training day or a slack day. No patrols, no stakeouts, just me and Dave and pencils poking tender spots.

Dave wasn't against it, but he was acting kind of stiff. No, not like _that_ , like something was bothering him. A quiet frustration. But I couldn't see what the cause was. When we were training it went away, but before and after, sometimes I'd see bits of it.

I don't think it was because he couldn't figure the trick out for the Brazilian Leaping Jugular Cut.

Improving myself boiled down to the treatments I was taking, and my practice. The former of which could be boiled down to a single sentence. That fucking Orange Jar.

See how simple that is?

And everything else, well, it was everything else. I'll jot down anything important that happened if it's safe in the Diary for Marcus, otherwise in this one.

 **Oo0oO**

\- Monday was 'Fun with the Sides', specifically the liver and kidney's. That went well.  
\- Tuesday's training was 'Fun with the Spine', featuring Dave and Mr. Pencil.  
\- Wednesday will be a slack day.  
\- Thursday should be throat slitting, both Columbian and Sicilian variations. Dave really wouldn't like that day.  
\- And Friday, barring problems, should be 'Fun with Tendons, arms and legs edition'. And if Dave was unhappy with Thursday, it was nothing like finding your mighty unflinching limbs useless.

Simple. And little to no chance of breaking anything vital before my birthday. Can't be too careful.

 **Oo0oO**

Improvement always hurts.

From running to punching, to being able to hold still quietly and let the mosquitoes eat you while you prepare an ambush, you get nothing serious done without discomfort.

My final jar of treatment came with a warning from the Nazi-Doc about 'moderate discomfort'. And as I had learned, the Doc liked to low-ball these things. By a lot.

Monday morning and my chest was red, blotchy, and felt like a first degree burn all over. The shower was _hell_ , but the Brown Jar was now a heavenly bit of a relief... for a little while. Then it flaked off in a few hours. Hell resumed.

Stuffing myself into the fat suit (and it was stuffing. it had some give but was nearly flat up top) was painful, and I could throughout the day feel my pulse causing a dull throb under my skin. This was one of the few times I was happy to have tiny little tits instead of jugs.

Training with Dave hurt, though the adrenaline helped ease it to a dull throbbing roar and I could at least loosen the vest a bit. Still, not nearly as fun for me as it was for him I imagine.

And Monday night made preparing for Tuesday even worse. I was actually hesitating to put the Orange Jar on again. But then I sucked it up and started gooping. It stung immediately and it fucked with my sleep something fierce.

That Tuesday afternoon had me declaring Wednesday as a day off. I snuck an energy drink in before training Dave, which I was a bit worried about, as you don't want to be jittery when you are stabbing vital points. Especially in pretend.

Despite the Orange Jar's contents being thick and clear, when it sweated stuff out, it gained color. And stained the cloth bands like I was in a horror movie. Weepy bloody little tits, yay. A message to Max had a new batch of cloth bands was on the way before I ran out.

And that's only just the _physical_ pain I endured. There was also my practice.

 **Oo0oO**

Like some dumbass cramming for final exams in a panic, I found myself cramming other things.

Max's words struck me on levels I didn't even realize I had. I went from giddy with glee about the glands and what advantage they represented, to absolute terror at Dave's after reaction, despite Max's lack of worry.

It was my fault. Of course it was, it was my goddamn mouth. As pleasant as it was for Dave, it wasn't good enough to convince him that it was me, and only me, that did that, and not just any eleven year old. I now had fucking proof of my fault.

So, now I had to _really_ convince him. It had to be a fucking performance for the ages. Sucking, rather.

I finished off my earlier to do list save for figuring out what to do with my hands, the gloves made for excellent grip but also for scraping sensitive skin. Gentle squeezes at best. I'd have to look into similar looking gloves with a much more silky touch, or maybe go with bare hands. But what about callouses? Most girls didn't have knife and pistol and rifle callouses, so was that a good thing or a bad thing? Also it meant exposing some skin, something Max had warned me against having.

So far, Max had been right about everything, and he wasn't worried the immediate future, instead looking ahead for building the new "Mindy". But then he held his cards close to his chest. Still, I'd trust his judgement about the skin. The kid's gloves stayed on, so to speak.

With Monday spent on confirming I had the girth down with no problem and that I could go for about six minutes before I needed to stop, I spent Tuesday trying to figure out how to deal with how I felt that day.

I had been putting it off for far too long.

 **Oo0oO**

Ever since my first 'session' with Dave, my efforts of remembering and trying to get over the end moments hadn't worked in the slightest. I remembered it all, and the end was _bad_. It smelled terrible and the taste still gave me faint echoes of the _howling_ in the back of my head.

Practicing on Little Dave was nothing, it evoked nothing, no anger, no fear, no rage, no disgust. It was just more training, like I all the stuff I did back with Daddy, only less flesh colored tools.

Maybe it didn't bug me because I was treating it as just training and that was not real enough? I grabbed a pair of my jeans and stuck it through the fly and went down on that. No issue. Thinking back, the whole thing started out without any problems either, just nerves and terror really.

Looking at Little Dave, I realized that I'd seen, and held, and sucked on the real Dave, and had no problems with that. It didn't cause any rage, at least at first...

So why the big change at the end? Why the rage, and why the urge to kill? If it was the taste or smell, there wasn't going to be much I could do about that. Maybe change Dave's diet a little?

Why was it so bad? Looking online I found most complaints were about the consistency, and that it had very little taste.

So why the reaction? Was it Dave or was it just me?

Fucking hell, it had to be me, Dave had no problems fucking Katie after all.

Then came the dread. _Was I defective_?

Just thinking about how goddamn naive I was not even two months ago disgusts me. 'Seduce Dave', Hah! If it wasn't for Max, I'd probably trying and failing all year long, or, worse still, I'd get him in between my legs and then freak out and stick a knife in his skull or something.

I felt like I was gut shot, but with a vest on so I wouldn't have the option of just laying there and bleeding out.

But Daddy hadn't made tough for nothing, and after a few minutes of self-pity, I crushed it down and tried to isolate the trouble spot. Then I'd poke it as hard as I could. Then I'd fix it.

To the bathroom I went, Little Dave in tow.

 **Oo0oO**

There I was, in the mirror. I was clad in jeans and my chest was covered by a cloth band. My skin was puffy, red and sore above and below the cloth, and I very hesitantly poked a boob.

Ow. Fucking ow. Fucking Orange Jar.

Aside of the that though, turning my head this way and that, looking at myself I couldn't see any problem, just me. Just like before.

But now I introduced the other element.

I brought Little Dave up to my face, my lips.

Wait, why was my hand in the mirror _shaking_? Why was my face in the reflection shying away from it?

Slamming Little Dave down on the sink, tip up, I closed my eyes and did what I had done hundreds of times in practice. Stopping with just the head inside my mouth, I opened my eyes.

I couldn't look at myself, I-my eyes kept veering away.

I could hear my breathing picking up, air rushing out of my nose, rasping almost like I had been fighting in a brawl. My head was trembling and trying to pull away.

As I pulled my head back a thin line of drool connecting my lips to Little Dave. Looking at _that_ brought a sound from my throat. A throat noise.

A whimper.

What the _fuck_?!

 **Oo0oO**

After I calmed down from my panic attack, I was bound and determined to see how far and how bad it got.

How defective was I?

I grabbed the old hand-held shaving mirror, Marcus had a new one on an extendy-arm thing attached to the shower, and after little experimentation, the old bottle of lotion, mostly empty. It had the right color and consistency.

Back to my bedroom, and my phone was balanced carefully on my keyboard sideways, letting me get a decent view of most of the room.

I then got everything ready on the bed. Little Dave went back in the jeans to stick out of the open fly once more. The mirror and the lotion were easily in my reach, even if I closed my eyes.

And then I fantasized about victory.

 **Oo0oO**

 _I had won, Dave was mine, and Katie had fucked off. We were on my bed, and with Marcus gone Dave wanted a little more of my amazing oral talents._

 _And with the feel of the denim of Dave's jeans under my hands, I got started._

 _I used a dozen or so of the many tricks I'd picked up from the pornos. Kiss this bit, nibble on that bit, go deep and place a hand on my throat like he would so I could feel it in my throat and hum._

 _I remembered how he moaned on the rooftop and when I remembered that I remembered how I felt when I realized he liked this, liked **me** , how happy and relieved I felt. I let that spur me on._

 _Unlike my practices, here I was really moving, and even without the Dave I was making those sounds, those obscene sounds, those disgusting sounds that scraped at my pride. I didn't stop._

 _Two minutes became three, four, and while I could feel the burn, I was in no risk like before of cramping up or choking._

 _And then Dave was coming in my mouth._

I remembered the smell and the taste and reached for the bottle of lotion.

Even the memory of this was bringing the _howling_ back though it was fainter.

 _I drank it like those whores in the videos always did, when it wasn't splattering on their faces, but there was too much and it was dribbling down my chin..._

And then I added the lotion for effect. With my eyes closed I could feel the splatters slowly sliding down my face.

Gripping the shaving mirror I looked hard at myself.

With my hair dishevelled, my eyes showing the whites, cock in my mouth, 'jizz' and drool on my chin, the _howling_ was unbearable.

So I didn't. I let go and let the howling carry me off.

 **Oo0oO**

 ***Click**Click**Click**Click**Click**Click**Click**Click**Click***

I blinked and I was backed into the corner of my room, I had my gun from under my pillow in hand, finger spasming on the trigger. Thankfully the bullets were out of the clip and in a sock I'd tossed in the basement.

I felt a pinch in my other hand. Looking down, my other hand was bleeding. The shaving mirror was crushed, though thankfully it had a nice sturdy steel frame for gripping, that limited how much damage I took, though I'd still be picking out shards tonight with tweezers.

I knew it was going to be bad, but I never expected it'd be _this_ bad.

If I ever lost control, I'd definitely kill Dave.

Rubbing my jaw, which ached, I tossed the handgun onto the bed and picked Little Dave up off the ground. Despite the hardened core and the thickness, I'd nearly bitten halfway through.

Or at least take an important chunk out of him.

I needed to fix this.

And sorry Max, I don't think I can ever tell you how I intend to do that.


	50. Chapter 42-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 42-Secret Diary

* * *

Wednesday was to be a slack day for Dave and I, but I wouldn't be resting. In fact the fatigue would help me, make things more fuzzy.

I'd need every bit I could get.

During my time in the library on Wednesday, I spent my time making a list of things I'd need.

To be honest I don't remember much about my day, except that Jessi wasn't walking funny anymore, at least not when she was in public. After taking another gym class off, she did stagger a bit in the library, so it was still going on at home, she was just taking pains to conceal it better.

The escalation was worrying, but something I'd have to take care of after I've dealt with my upcoming events.

After class, I went home and picked up what I needed, then hopped on the bus and went to the mall, they had a decent set of stores for all the items I'd need.

And then it was off to the Bolthole #6. No on would hear anything over there.

 **Oo0oO**

After calling Dave and telling him to relax and go have fun at Atomic Comics, I assured him that I'd be fine taking care of routine maintenance of my kit in the Safehouse #3. I gave him the spiel about me trying to salvage my old suit that got rifle shot a while back. Just boring scut work. Oh, and to reconfirm the whole not telling Marcus about the whole getting shot with a rifle part.

That gave him the disinclination to actually chat with Marcus. And that I'd be staying put and not going anywhere.

Plus after a steady week with me stabbing him all over, he wanted a little time free. If only to try to figure out how to get out of the Brazilian Leaping Jugular Cut.

Marcus got pretty much the same spiel, barring the mention of me getting shot. I told him not to worry, and there was a nearby 7/11 so I'd get at least two of the things on the food pyramid down. He even beat me to the punch line and recited "sugar and grease." before I could.

He could hear the smile in my voice and was quietly reassured that he knew I wasn't going to be up to much.

My smile ended when the call did.

This wasn't going to be easy.

 **Oo0oO**

When I lost Daddy, Dave stepped in and filled in what he could. He still has no idea just what he saved me from and I don't know if I can ever explain it in a way he could understand.

But he wasn't Daddy, so not everything was the same. He didn't really approve of my more brutal moments, particularly against the regular scum, not like Daddy did. So that was a minor adjustment, but it kept me doing what Daddy made me for.

Don't kill, just maim. Wound them instead of gutting them. Break a few bones, but not too many. Beatings were still okay but no capping them after it got boring.

I'd still kill if he was in any risk of dying, but the training I was giving him and the armor eased that particular tension in my chest. And so, as time went on, I adjusted and changed and became more suitable to his needs. He needed to chastise me less and less about excessiveness as I refined and revised.

But then Dave had other needs than Daddy. And to be perfect, I had to be everything he needed.

If only he'd just fucked escorts, that'd be fine. Daddy did that, and it didn't bother me. I could even endure him fucking whores as long as he was careful. If he did either one of those things then I could be the perfect without all this. It'd just be that guy bit of maintenance he'd have to take care of. But sadly this wasn't the case.

Katie wasn't just a thing he stuck his dick to get his rocks off, she had a place close to him. She mattered to him. And as long as she was there, the risk would always remain that Dave might have to choose at some point. Even now, so much of Dave's future had Katie in it somewhere.

In a nutshell, Dave needed more and different things than Daddy did, things I didn't really understand beyond the extremely obvious. I was learning, slowly, what it meant to be perfect for him, but it wasn't easy.

Dave wanted sex. He wanted girls with big tits. I could do that particular math easy. I'd figure out the rest later.

So, after sufficient training, I could kill a man and be covered in his blood and I could suck a dick. They were just actions, the motions I needed to do to be perfect, the former for Daddy, the latter for Dave.

But now there was a conflict, between what I was, and what I now needed to be. When it came to looking at myself I had no problems whatsoever being covered in red. But I appeared to have... _issues_ with being covered with anything else.

This needed to change. I needed to change.

 **Oo0oO**

I'd brought my pills, the Orange and Brown Jars (I didn't know how long this would take), a few pairs of rubber gloves, the thong, my loose B bra, my shot up uniform I'd picked up on Tuesday from the safehouse, both Little Daves just in case I wrecked one, the egg and the little vibe stick, my sewing kit, and the UV lamp which folded up pretty good.

I'd bought a few things from the store as well, but I'd get to them later.

After all, it wasn't like I could get over it like I did my silly blood problem back in the day. Ah, Carrie still makes me laugh.

First was Plan A. _Her_.

Could she do what I could not?

But first I needed to protect the mirror. If I couldn't see her, this wouldn't work. And the shaving mirror taught me that I tried to break anything that I didn't like the look of.

Sitting down on the cot, I watched the little recording I did of myself on the phone once more. From this angle it really didn't look like me, and I couldn't see Little Dave with my hair in the way.

*Bobbing*, skip forward, *bobbing*, skip forward, *bobbing*, _skip forward_ , aaaaaand ***snap***.

In the video, I heard the rubber of the dong squeak as my teeth bit down hard. Damn hard, my jaw was still sore. I heard and saw my hand squeeze the mirror to bits as I shook my head left and right like a dog trying to break the neck of a rat, before spitting it out and hurling myself backwards to my pillow. Pistol in hand, I jumped forward and off the bead, took aim where Dave would have been if those jeans the his, and started squeezing the trigger at center mass.

Five seconds all told.

I could do a lot of damage to Dave in those five seconds, even if he was trained up and was wearing armor. And even if I didn't successfully maul him, it'd drive him into Katie's arms all the more.

Some tough Plexiglas and a bit of chicken wire I'd brought would cover the mirror from pretty much whatever I could throw at it, and I'd disarm and remove all the guns and bullets from the storehouse. Everything except for one handgun with an empty clip on one end of the room and a claw hammer on the other end.

Five seconds, double that and add ten percent for safety meant I had to buy eleven seconds. Three, maybe four to either end of the room, and having both on opposite ends meant I might hesitate a second or two on deciding which to grab when I snapped. That left three-ish seconds or so that the Plexiglas and the wire should have to take.

Off went my clothes and the fat-suit, on went the thong. As long as I kept my gaze away from the mirror, I wouldn't see her. I grabbed the thinner Little Dave.

And so, laying on the cot across from the big mirror, I got to practice. Eyes closed, building up steam.

And after a couple of minutes I kept the head in my mouth and looked up. And there _she_ was.

Would she keep going? She got wet like a whore did, maybe she'd act like one with the cock in her mouth?

Instead, she shrieked and hurled Little Dave away as she scrabbled backwards. Falling off the cot, she made her way to the corner of the room on her hands and knees. Her last act before leaving me was to break down crying.

Instead of arousing or beautiful, she just looked fragile.

After a minute of sobbing, I cut it short with a frown and a hiccup.

Plan A was definitely a bust.

"On to Plan B." I whispered, getting dressed and wiping my eyes.

 **Oo0oO**

Way back, when I was just starting out, and couldn't train very much or fight for very long, sometimes me and Daddy would talk.

Not about the important things like my training or when I'd be ready or what my first target would be, but little things, like his time as a cop, or how he got through prison, and sometimes, just sometimes, about Mom.

He always started out happy, and I knew he loved her, but his stories always ended the same. He'd get sadder and angrier, and Mom would go from being a mother and a wife into a junkie and a whore.

He worked awful hard to make sure I didn't turn out like that, doing things that made him cry while he did them, and I think that's what's causing the problem.

Daddy was dead, but his grip on who I was lived on.

I could _do_ the things, but if I heard myself or saw myself doing them, the old rules Daddy hammered into me would came back and I reacted accordingly. So I had to make new rules, and wear away old ones. The hint was at the end of that first session with Dave, when I thanked him. A little piece of the old me broke off and fell away. A new shape lay underneath.

I just had to uncover it.

 **Oo0oO**

The old costume I'd worn in front of Jessi, the one that was just a bit too tight, that would do for the set up. I couldn't wear it for much longer as it was, I'd grown a fair bit in the last year.

I took my knife to it and I didn't need to be too neat about it. In fact, the rougher, the better. Using my sewing kit, I started stitching the edges closed. While I did, I started humming an old tune, though I don't know where I learned it from.

It didn't take too long. I didn't need most of the top, or the front of the skirt, or the pants higher than my thighs...

Taking the old purple wig, I flipped it upside down and started stabbing small holes on the inside, keeping the basic frame of the wig intact. My Mask was left intact, it needed to be intact. It held everything together.

With that done, I took a small break, drank some water, and ate a bit of an MRE. It wouldn't do to stop halfway because I passed out.

 **Oo0oO**

Then I got out the items I'd bought from the quick stop at the mall. Vaseline, spare batteries, some aloe vera lotion in case my tits bugged me too much, and a fresh bottle of that greyish lotion I used on Tuesday. Oh, and a few thick syringes, the ones you fed kittens formula with.

Getting undressed, I gave myself a final once over. The before of the Before/After if you will.

Aside of a red, sore, and puffy chest, everything else was normal, and aside of feeling incredibly nervous, I felt normal as well.

Slapping a blue glove on, I cracked open the Vaseline and grabbed a fingerfull. With all the various goops I'd applied so far, I'd gotten pretty good at estimating the amount needed to coat things.

I started with the egg.

Once coated, it slid in with an ease that was startling. No wonder drug mules used this stuff! Taking the thin little buzz stick, I pushed it in further, not unlike those civil war soldiers loading a cannon ball. The thought made me smile a bit, before it bumped into the end of the line. I got back to dressing.

Regular panties - not the thong as she clearly wasn't ready yet - and the loose bra, before grabbing the cord of the egg and tucking the little remote into the back of my panties.

Then came what was left of my pants. Pretty much long stockings that kept slipping off. A couple'a safety pins attached them to what was left of the skirt.

Then my modified top. Nice and breezy.

Then my new wig. I pulled some of my blonde hair through the holes.

Then my gloves and socks and boots.

Only my mask was untouched. Immaculate.

 **Oo0oO**

Daddy meticulously honed me into the beautiful and sharp weapon that I was.

Now, I didn't have his years of preparation or the help of Max like he'd had.  
But even a two-bit thug could make a prison shank from nearly anything, even a toothbrush.

Just scrape it away.

New Rule One: It's alright if it's Dave.

I toggled the egg on, set it two notches on the dial higher than I ever put it to in Practice, and then took a deep breath.

Hips twitching slightly, I turned and too real good look at myself.


	51. Max Interlude I

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Max's Interlude

* * *

 **Debt - Second Favor to Damon Macready**

 **Oo1oO**

Instead of spending his first favor to not actually spend any time in prison like I expected, Damon served his time in incarceration, and, after retrieving his daughter, spent it on her, and by extension his, training. He wanted to instill in her the refined efforts of Kinderheim 511, specifically the Hoch Begleiter portion of the experiments.

As to how he discovered their existence, or knew that I held one of the few remaining copies of the efforts of that program, unfortunately was something that he took to the grave with him. Pity.

As to _why_ he chose that over something less damaging, such as the Steiner-Grimmer which would simply flip her into Abschlachten Modus at a command word, sadly that was painfully obvious. His trust in others was nearly destroyed, and he wanted someone absolutely loyal to him, which he knew is what that the H-B project was for. That they never had a single success live beyond puberty save for Roberto (#63-R) was a risk he was willing for her to take.

And she did excellently after operant conditioning and catharsis set in, so much so that I took the risk and showed her the exact process that she was undertaking when she was nine. This was to see if the efforts of the Italian SWA's _Fratello_ program would supply the missing step. Would self-realization allow her to go beyond the known breaking point, puberty, when her hormones conflicted with her operant conditioning?

In any event, while she was being conditioned he went into the best training available, and, began to teach much of it to her. I followed this up with a more practical and classical education, and she learned quickly.

Since H-B process is not meant for combat barring assassination (the repeated danger and risks of death to Damon drastically reducing her Time-To-Failure), desensitization was required, a task Damon took on himself when she was seven. What was done to accomplish this he did not disclose to me, however, it did lead to him contacting me, drunk and delirious, and demanding this, the second favor. I agreed after confirming her desensitization.

After she reached age nine, they set off.

 **Oo2oO**

And so Damon lived and died.

After confirming his death, and concluding the investigations of the exact event with the D'Amico family, I was no longer perplexed as to why she was not retreating to me, her nearest Instructor, as she was supposed to.

She had found someone else to take Damon's place.

How this is possible is still unknown. Was it because Dave was there at the right place and right time? Or was Damon responsible? I may never know, vexing as that is. I doubt she understands it, she wasn't supposed to be able to.

 **Oo3oO**

Finding Dave was easy. Unpleasantly so. She should have eliminated that trail to him and thus to her. Something was either very wrong or she had placed it on a lower priority for some reason.

Careful observation revealed the latter, she was extremely busy learning her new role. Dave apparently said that he wanted her to be a normal girl, and so she was attempting to emulate one, all while mapping his interests and desires.

The fact that he has yet to notice that she liked every and any comics, movies, games, and errata as he does does not speak well for his observation skills. She has also noted his sexual preferences, at least in part, and her computer shows records of her initial attempts at gathering intel about breasts at this point. Dave is evidently a breast man, and now so was she.

As this was entirely new ground being covered, under no circumstances could my existence be revealed to her, as she would immediately reclassify me and thus not follow instruction. Anything that posed a threat to her new partner would be dealt with.

Thankfully her conditioning had her self-document all her efforts in her diary, and scanning that gave me much information.

And thus time went by, until she called me and wanted to meet.

 **Oo4oO**

In addition to our conversation, investigation of the day in question revealed that while she had just started puberty and was entering the dangerous time for the H-B's she had not in fact Broken. This meant there was still time.

However, this is complicated by the fact that she had observed Dave mid-coitus, and, feeling like she was now inadequate in her role, retreated to her Instructor for additional training.

The fact that she was effectively asking me for Doxie training was both amusing and dire. The very thing that had lead to the deaths of every single H-B barring one, and she wanted to accelerate it.

I needed time, and that meant keeping her focused on a goal.

She wanted a splendid bosom? Very well, that would take a while.

I offered her a new Diary, a digital one, and explained that Marcus was reading her current one. He actually was, however she had him firmly in the position of Ally, which meant she didn't notice his efforts at keeping an eye on her. She couldn't. Once her position with Dave was put at risk, she has reclassified Marcus as an Asset, and no longer allows any privileged information to reach him.

 **Oo5oO**

Could she be salvaged?

Dr. Schreber believed it possible. And so, he began the exceedingly dangerous process of accelerating the growth of certain portions of her body while keeping her mind from entering puberty.

As I had introduced him as a fellow instructor, Mindy should not question the process, despite the odd nature of it.

He feels certain that if in her mind's development she avoided the turbulent period that is adolescence, if it was suppressed and then smoothly transitioned through it without the mood-swings and the rapid hormone changes, her mind might possibly perhaps accept the transition to adulthood and not Break.

As for me, working on her "Mindy" would be a core goal. I would have to wait until she felt she had established her "proper" position with Dave, which means I must wait at least until she has had two sessions with him, possibly three.

And so it goes.

 **Oo6oO**

Weeks pass, her breasts begin to swell, and her focus remains on her practice. She spends at least an hour a day watching assorted pornography and bobbing on an artificial phallus in mimicry. Her longest single practice session observed has been a little over three hours, though the last hour of that one was purely vocal practice and emulating their grunts, moans, and whimpers.

While many observing would no doubt call it disturbing or obsessive, it is a good sign. Her actions here are no different than when she learned handguns, or knives, or garrotes. She repeats until she feels confident in applying it. That her new role requires her to make those sounds is irrelevant.

After a session with Dave, we shall see if she moves onto other things.

 ***EDIT May*** In retrospect, I believe it was somewhere in this time that she started redacting her diary and hiding things from me. The failure is mine, I selected an individual whose skill was sufficient for the task, but whose discipline was lacking.

I really wish I had enough time to devote more into computers, but there are only so many hours in a day.

 **Oo7oO**

She has concluded her first session with Dave, and, upon seeing the recording of the event on the rooftop, now I see at least in part the process Marcus used to desensitize her.

Damon was a foolish, foolish man.

His squeamishness and reluctance to deal with the fact that his daughter has a vagina would make this all the more difficult. Making Hit Girl into a sexless personality means she may not even see parts of her own body as hers, merely additions.

In comparison, Dave took the post-session almost exactly as intended. At least thus far he represents a somewhat stable variable in all this.

He is a good man, and thus will be maneuvered into place like all good man are.

 **Oo8oO**

She definitely is redacting more of her diary, which is dangerous thanks to her current stability. The Maid has been unable to determine where, if any, she keeps her redacted information.

One such issue redacted is with her friend 'Jessi'. Only a cursory inspection of her life was done initially, unremarkable all told, and yet something happened in the store where they bought swimsuits, something that caused to start an impromptu stakeout of Jessi's abode.

The Maid was unable to venture close, as that would set her off, and as such we shall have to set up our own stakeout to see if any additional information can be gleaned.

In any event, whatever she did find drove her off, running home and stepped up her paranoia several levels.

 **Oo9oO**

So, Jessi is being molested by her brother and father. And yet they live.

Mindy should be calling me for dinner reservations for two, and instead they continue on living, breathing, and molesting.

Something is wrong with Mindy. Has she started to Break? Despite not showing any other signs?

 **Oo10oO**

Finally, we meet again. I have the initial ideas for her new "Mindy" role. That they may become the personality she falls back to when she breaks means it has to be stable and re-trainable, all the while not threatening her connection to Dave.

Schreber has included in her new perfume a calming agent, which should ease her through the end of his "Cycle." He has warned me that her last jar will be leeching much of the chemicals in her blood stream out, and, she may experience a week of mood-swings as a consequence.

We begin our conversation and tea, and then she starts revealing what she knows. It is in fact far more than I expected for her to gather. Ah, Kinderheim, you make so many exceptional monsters of all shapes and types.

She knows about the glands, and about the Diary reading, and about the editing, and about at least some of the surveillance. How much more she knows she is keeping close to the vest as it were.

I attempted to break her calm by explaining about what her efforts were doing to Dave, and while she did not take that well, I can only hope it causes her to offer more into her Diary for me to examine.

And then she drops a bombshell of unexpected proportions.

Mindy has not only Broken, but she is still functional.

Some time before the swimsuit event, she by sheer chance introduced the right combination of factors (Undergarments?) to cause her to Break. She saw what she calls " _Her_ ", but instead of becoming homicidally enraged at the doppelganger attempting to usurp her life like all the others did, she _admired_ it? Became sexually aroused at the sight of it?

How is this possible?

Was it Dave? Damon? Jessi and her antics with her family? The medication? Dr. Schreber's efforts? My own?

My plans with the perfume were put on hold until after her second session with Dave. If this works out, she may provide an answer long sought.

 **Oo11oO**

Sadly it seems I spoke too soon. She addressed me directly in her diary on Tuesday, and, plans to do something about the issues she's finally noticed. It boils down as always to the reflections. However, this appears to be something Damon did to her.

She can do virtually any carnal practice, but she does it quietly, neatly, and she never observes herself doing it.

At first I chalked this up to her trying to be discreet when Marcus was around, but crossing this recent information with her first session with Dave, and what she describes as the ' _howling_ ', shows just how near to catastrophe she is.

Real sex is messy and noisy, and while she couldn't see herself, she could hear herself doing it with Dave that first time. And then unlike the rubber phallus, she could smell and taste the sex, which amplified the problem.

There was the Break, hiding within the sex act itself. I am certain she is aware of how close she came to killing Dave and herself.

And so she gathers what she needs, and on Wednesday, she left to deal with it, which is foolishness in the extreme.

Sadly while the Maid could find her Safe-house, he lost her when she went to a second, no doubt disposable area.

I expect to find her corpse within a day or two. On Friday, I shall arrange for a group to canvas where she was last seen.

 **Oo12oO**

Thursday brings a complete surprise. She has been seen leaving the area. Alive and apparently sane or at least alert and combatically capable. The padded suit I have been having her wear to hide her body from her own sight to minimize the doppelganger effect unfortunately also hides any disfiguring she may have done to herself in her absence, as self-mutilation is not uncommon when they Break. The urge to harm the doppelganger in the mirror normally starts with the face though, and thus far no signs of harm there are noted.

She is limping slightly, so I shall have Dr. Schreber conduct a full examination of her genitals to see if she has been carving there.

The Maid has not slept since emergency began and I am beginning to think he may be growing fond of her. This may be useful.

 **Oo13oO**

The Maid has found her bolthole by Thursday afternoon. After disarming several traps, he has requested that I come in and see personally what has been done inside.

Upon entering, the smells of burnt cloth, sex, sweat, and other odors are in the air.

The burnt cloth comes from both the remnants of what appears to be one of her costumes, as well as one of Damon's.

There is the remains of a mirror, covered in what was Plexiglas and wire. She is evidently having hostile reactions to some things in what she sees of herself.

Dead batteries are found, C-Cells, which if memory serves are used in the egg vibrator I gave her in her initial foray.

Then came the scraps of purple hair from her wig. Enough for half the wig, but the size of the hair shows it's not all from one cut, but several holes around the head.

The scraps of the suit, when collected and compared to what images I have in her outings, shows that it's likely much of the front of her costume. At least the chest, skirt, and her pants from waist to upper thigh.

Two rubber dildos, which she describes affectionately as "Little Dave". One mauled and repeatedly bitten, the other unmarked.

And lastly, the explosives. Designed apparently to go off if she tries to leave the building in an unthinking rage.

All of this leads me to conclude she will return, and, she intends to kill herself if she fails in her self-modification. I order video and audio recording equipment to be set up here and hooked into the building's power supply.

I must know what she is doing, especially if it works.

 **Oo14oO**

As I leave and prepare for what is to come, there remains some unknowns.

\- Why did she destroy her father's old costume?  
\- Is she choosing to mutilate Hit Girl and not herself?  
\- Did Damon ever let her stop being Hit Girl?

The fact that there was no third favor remains my trump card. She knows that I will repay my debts fully, and that means whatever I offer her must be for it, even if she doesn't understand how.

And as far as repaying old debts go, this one remains quite interesting.


	52. Chapter 43-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 43-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _Not dead, just sick, and busy, and working my fingers to the bone, and playing a bucketload of games._

 _Go team GigaTurk!_

* * *

The ringing of the wind-up old-school alarm clock woke me up. Groggily I sat up and switched it off.

I felt like crap, and really wanted to just sleep until I didn't, but it'd arouse suspicion, not only about where I was but what I was up to, and that I was lying to them about where I was.

They couldn't know why. Never ever.

The room stank, not like the blood and sweat and cordite that marked progress throughout most of my life, but the stink of a cunt.

I guess that's what progress smells like now.

I stank too, no doubt, though I couldn't separate it from the room. That meant a shower was vital, so I had to detour to the Safehouse, shower, change into whatever leftover clothes I had, and get to school. Then survive that, train Dave, and finally _finally_ get some sleep.

Yay.

 **Oo0oO**

I took stock of myself as I rose and stretched out the kinks.

Damage report:

\- Face hurts, I think I was biting Little Dave a fair bit there. Skin feels odd, a little tight. I think I was crying a bunch and it dried. A strange feeling, not one I'd had since Daddy died.

\- Tit's hurt. While hardly new this week, but more than the usual regular pain. I recall vaguely that I put on the Orange Jar like I was supposed to last night. In hindsight, or common sense (which I really need more of) slapping that shit on while doing what I was doing just meant I made a mess of one of the cots. The bra has so many red splotches that it looks like I got stabbed in the boobs. Certainly feels like it. Unhooking the bra, it was sticking to my little tits just like the cloth did back in the Blue Jar days. The only difference between this time and that, was when I peeled the cups off, they took a fair bit of skin with them. _Wonderful_.

If it weren't for the fact that I read this was coming in the folder the Doc gave me last week, I swear I'd've made a bee-line to his building with two grenades and a chainsaw. Putting these things in the fat suit would be capital Fuckin- _fun_ and I'd put it off until right before I went to school.

Dave better god damn appreciate these things when they were done.

\- Moving on, the Cunt. On the outside puffy, red, and sore, like Jessi's was when I saw her that time. Evidently I'd torn off my panties at some point.

I still had the egg shoved up in it as I hadn't managed to pull it out before I passed out for good last night.

I didn't yank, as yanking might break cords, and I had zero desire to go digging up in there for the egg. It popped out with an obscene splorch and a twinge. The batteries were dead, as were the originals on the floor. I'd have to get more before the weekend.

Then I felt something weird.

Looking down, I saw that the egg had been acting as an impromptu dam, and, with it gone, that I was making a mess of the cot. Leaning back, I grabbed the blanket and started wiping myself off. Thank fuck no one was around to see this, I'd murder just about anyone if they did. Maybe even Dave, and then where would I be?

\- As I wiped, I felt the twinges in the last place to take stock of, my hands. I'm glad I left the gloves alone in my modifications, otherwise I'm sure the damage would be even worse. They were bruised, despite the callouses I'd built up. Looking at the most probable target, I saw why.

At some point I'd destroyed the Plexiglas and the mirror. I didn't remember doing it, but there it was, in bits.

Did I fail? No, I couldn't have, if I did, I'd be dead, I'd made sure of it with the bombs and the wires. I hadn't left the bolthole, nor had I tried leaving this room. I hadn't killed myself, and I was still me. Still sane.

Well, _mostly_ sane. Can't call someone who makes a plan like this really all there.

Finally done leaking all over the cot, I got shakily to my feet. Taking a step, I winced, wobbled, and whimpered slightly.

Fuck, it looks like Jessi won't be the only one walking funny today.

Looking down one end of the room, the gun was gone, as was the hammer on the other end. Both were by the mirror. As I looked around, I spotted my phone tucked away where I wouldn't smash it. Powering it on, the messages started coming in.

A few from Marcus and Dave and a single message from Cato, the Maid-Man.

Theirs was the usual, 'where are you' bits they always send when I wander off the beaten path out of sight for more than five minutes. They got the same message, I copied and pasted to both.

 **Got lost in old memories. Stayed overnight in an old bolthole, near some of Daddy's old armor. Heading to safehouse then school after shower.**

Cato's message needed something a bit more honest.

 **Do I need to kill you?**

That needed a response before I walked outside.

 **I don't think so. If you think otherwise, please aim for a leg.**

Can't be too careful.

 **Oo0oO**

I threw my filthy mangled costume into the steel oil drum, along with the blanket, the rolled up cot's thin mattress, and whatever I could grab and chuck in under a minute. Time's a wasting!

Gasoline, some broken pallet wood, a match, presto! You wish all your problems were this easy to clean up.

I took the pants half of the shot costume, the vibes - get more batteries after school -, all my assorted pills and Jars, and tossed it in the duffel bag, I'd sort it later when I had time.

I didn't put on the fat-suit, I'd just reek it up. It went in the duffel bag sorta folded up. My now very loose clothes would need a bit of belt cinching, but it wasn't like it made me taller or anything, just thicker.

Then I disarmed the bomb.

It was nothing fancy, just something that'd blow if I treated it like I treated everything when I was raging. After a moment's thought, I re-wired it to the door.

Max was no doubt looking for this place and I didn't want people to see - or smell - what I had to do to correct myself. With luck one of the gormless fucks would yank on the door and erase all the evidence. I doubt it'd work on the Maid-Man or Max though, but we'd see if the place was still standing when I came back.

And I'd have to, I'd barely gotten anything in place.

But I was tough, I could take it, and it's all right if it's Dave.

 **Oo0oO**

Back at the safehouse, I shucked everything off and tossed it into the duffel bag, dug out my spare fat-threads, and practically dove into the shower.

Dave had messaged as I was walking back that he'd stop by and make sure I got to school on time. Was he borrowing the car or something or did his Dad not work today?

I washed, and let the sweat and the stink and the filth go down the drain. I felt so much better this way, more like how I'm supposed to be me.

My hair took a quick wash, and then I slowly turned into the shower proper.

I hissed in pain as the hot water hit the cunt, _my_ cunt, I reminded myself, it wasn't just the thing I pissed out of anymore. It was still red and sore, and I really didn't want to run a wash cloth over it, but it was after all just one more thing that would need maintenance now. I wasn't sure what to use, (were there cunt soaps?) so I ended up sitting on the floor and spreading things to let the water rinse off what it may.

What was that word again? Douche? It wasn't just a word for lame assholes, it was also some sort of feminine hygiene product. I'd have to look into it. Probably like gun oil but for the cunt. Cunt oil? I really needed to look up the correct words.

Stepping forward slightly, I let the hot water hit the little tits, _my_ tits, mine. These are also a part of me and soon they too would see use.

Like the - _my_ \- cunt, it stung, but it was in a good way. I had no words to describe it, and I've washed the things for weeks but now, I had no words to describe then, and even less now.

In any event, I let the water linger there a fair bit. I even enjoyed toweling them off, winces aside.

Even the Brown Jar stung when it landed on the raw spots, but it helped with the ache and the raw skin exposed. I rubbed it in, the last day of goop for a while, at least according to the Doc. Looking down at my little bumps, I rubbed and thought about what would happen next.

Would there be more Jars, more pills? Needles in the tits? Would it _hurt_?

I blinked and found I was massaging the goop in like the Doc did that time. A bit too much.

I didn't have time for this.

I finished and started getting ready for the fat suit.

Dave would be here any moment, and some things still had to be kept a secret.

Cloth band wrapped around them, I scrambled into the suit, then my no longer loose clothes.

 **Oo0oO**

How does Jessi do it?

She looks so _normal_ so easily, you'd never guess that she was getting plowed on a regular basis. By two fuckers no less.

If Dave and I, y'know, got _physical_ physical, then I'd have to learn how to hide it at least as good as she did. At least from Marcus, and the school. Stupid rumor mills.

At least better than I was right now, enough so she didn't ask me quietly about it during the lunch break. I'd taken to eating outside then hiding in the library to keep on the down low, but Jessi knew that. Angela was off trying to score a burger off school grounds, not allowed according to the guidelines, but miles ahead of the cafeteria in terms of quality.

"Are you okay?" She whispered quietly and urgently. "Did he- Did you get- " She paused to try to discreetly say the word 'fuck' without saying it. "- Like me?"

"Naw." I drawled, shaking my head tiredly. "Just getting prep work done." At her look, still so hard to understand, I hastened to clarify. "I have some... issues, with certain things going into certain places. I'm trying to get over it."

"Anything I can do to help?" That right there is a sign of a wonderful friend. Not like me.

"After my birthday, I think so. Maybe." Would she tell me how she hides it so well? Was I a bad person for asking her for it?

Time will tell.

 **Oo0oO**

Dave did not like it when he got his throat slit.

No he didn't.

Even if it was a pencil eraser dragged across his neck instead of a knife.

He also really didn't like finding out all the spots in the area that are so dangerous to poke. A nerve cluster here, a tendon there, vertebra, trachea, muscles, and ever so many important places to bleed from.

Even with Wednesday off to cool down a bit, he really didn't like finding out just how vulnerable he was.

When it got to my turn to show him how to defend against most of it - not all, he still stubbornly refused to ask me about my the Brazilian Leaping Jugular cut and was boundly determined to figure it out himself- he was acting much rougher than usual, and any hesitancy in grabbing me was pretty much gone.

Good, he couldn't hesitate just because it was a girl he was grabbing, or me.

Plus, I liked it. The feeling of him around me, trying to jam a pencil in my eye, it was like Daddy back when I was learning.

The erection pressed against my ass was new, but not unwelcome, and his free hand was under my arm and pressing me against him tightly as he tried to shank me with an unsharpened number 2.

He didn't even notice he was effectively copping a feel, not like he could feel it over the hoodie and body armor I had on, but I could certainly feel it. He was squeezing my chest so harshly with his forearm I was certain it was going to leave a bruise.

It felt so good I almost let the pencil slip in and let him get his first taste of beating me.

Almost.

"Press forward, deflect his wrist with your own, use your mouth to catch it." Said number two pencil was caught in my teeth like a stick.

"Bite hard. Don't use your lips or tongue cause if it's at all sharp you are just itching to get a Joker-style smile when he yanks it back." A bit hard to say all this with said pencil in my teeth, but I managed.

"Grip wrist, step on instep, reverse headbutt." I did it gently, not enough to break anything, but enough to make his eyes water.

"Hook leg and trip, fall with him." We fell backwards. "Twist neck, retrieve weapon and stab them with it." Dave found me draped all over him his pencil poking his liver.

We got up and I handed it back to him.

"Now you try it against me."

 **Oo0oO**

After Dave drove me home, instead of taking off he went in with me and I found myself eating with him and Marcus. Mac n' Cheese, salad, some baked potatoes, all stuff you could make in short order. That there were three portions was not lost on me. They had been talking.

After we ate, it was grilling time.

Where did I, a little girl not even twelve go last night since I wasn't in the safehouse? Apparently he'd asked Dave to swing by and found out I was AWOL.

"A bolthole?" Dave hadn't heard the term before.

"It's like a safehouse, only more disposable, and typically without running water or heat." I explained. "And I went there as it was one of the places Daddy used to hold some of our stuff. Including one of his old suits."

Dave and Marcus shared a quick glance at each other. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Look, I just wanted to be alone with my memories for a bit." I tried to brush it off. "I was armed, I ate an MRE, I snoozed on a cot."

It was all true. I did do all those things, eventually.

I didn't have to fake a yawn halfway through the Dave and Marcus tag-team grilling. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't warn you guys, the urge just hit me halfway to the convenience store." I yawned again. "And I didn't sleep too well. Too many memories."

 **Oo0oO**

Finally in my room now, gonna crash early. I heard them muttering as I went up the stairs, but they didn't have anything, so I should be all right.

And I realized now, looking through the duffel bags that I forgot both Little Daves. No practice tonight then. I'll grab em tomorrow.

No goop either, not with all the peeling. Viva la Aloe Vera! Oh that stuff felt nice.

That left the pills, and a quick update in my Diary for Max to read. And I better jot something down on the paper one for Marcus as well. No sense having him skulk about.

Much to do tomorrow. My birthday is Saturday after all. One day to go.


	53. Chapter 43

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 43

 _Author's Note: This isn't the chapter, go back one for 43-C, then this one. I released both too close to each other, and if you jumped to the latest, you'd actually miss what I wrote._

* * *

Sorry Max, I'll put more in on Friday, too tired tonight.

Short answer, I'm still me, and I should be all right.

We'll chat tomorrow.


	54. Chapter 44-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 44-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note:_

 _Well, I got an earful for being sloppy with my structure here, so I'll try to be more careful now_

 _Just remember, if it's got "Secret Diary" or the -C on the end of the chapter, it's her diary she's hiding from_ _everyone_ _._

 _Let's see if I can make this flow a bit better._

* * *

I must have cratered for nearly ten hours. I really needed it, even if I had a bit of a nightmare, this week has been grueling.

But I was up at a pretty late for me 6AM, ready for my morning exercise and, after that, a quick appraisal of my situation.

The exercise came first as it'd help me appraise the rest of me aside of the new bits.

The result was quite telling. All this effort at getting perfect for some activities for Dave was making me soft in others.

Take my push-ups for example. Even with my hands banged up, I should be able to do a quick fifty with each hand. I still did, but the effort required was more than I had needed in at least a year. The pills and the goop were taking their toll in addition to all the social activities I had been participating in.

I'd still be doing everything, but it was important to know that it was changing my limits.

Forty-five minutes later and with a healthy sheen of sweat, I marched into the bathroom to take stock a good look at myself.

I'd looked better, I'd _been_ better, but at the same time at least my efforts weren't in vain. Were I still with Daddy, this wouldn't do at all, but with Dave, I think this was the right direction. To be by him and with him, I needed to have a wider skillset and toolset available. And tits.

Looking at them in the mirror, they were healing nicely, though not something I'd want to take a punch to. Still not big enough, but at least something rather than nothing.

Once in the shower, I took a look at the cunt. My cunt damnit. _Mine_.

Well, at least it no longer looks like it was slapped around like it owed someone money. I let the water hit it and my hands a bit before I stuck a finger inside.

I barely felt any pain, so I should be good to go for Saturday or Sunday at the latest.

As for my hands, well, I'd worked with them bruised before. I knew tricks to hiding external damage, couldn't let anyone think you were weak, and as long as I don't call any attention to them, I'd be fine. Maybe some fingerless gloves or something?

 **Oo0oO**

It's amazing how little I think of my pill regimen now. I don't think I've mentioned it all that much for a while now. I was still taking quite a bit, but for the next two weeks, after this checkup, I should be down to a mere ten per day. That's hardly anything at all.

I was eating my now routine heavy breakfast when Marcus came down. Man was still not much of a morning person thanks to the weird hours he kept, and it took a cup and a half of coffee before he stopped replying to everything I said with grunts and scowls.

"What'd you say?" He was getting there, slowly. Soon he'd be up to three syllables.

"I said," I said. "Since my birthday is tomorrow, could you tell me what address we're heading to so I can pass it on to Jessi and Angela's parents."

And he gave it to me just like that.

So, with all the secrecy and side glances, and hints and Angela, especially Angela, this tells me that this address is:

A) A bluff.  
B) A double bluff, and is real.  
C) A triple bluff, and Marcus expecting me to fall for it.  
D) The truth.

"Thanks." I said absently, and went back to my porridge.

I'd check on it in class on my phone.

 **Oo0oO**

Now that I wasn't walking like someone had whacked me in the crotch with a hockey stick, I was once again fading into the woodwork. To be honest, I can't even recall how many people were staring at me yesterday, I was pretty out of it, but I was alert now, and both Jessi and Angela(!) both took a look at me and then relaxed.

Fucking hell, how bad did I look yesterday? Definitely going with monster cramps and accident on my bike.

I spent my quiet time looking up the address Marcus gave me. Then I used google maps to walk past it. Then I checked reviews. Then I tried to hunt down the floor plan.

I don't get it.

Why was Angela being all secretive about this? Or was it about something else? I recalled how Angela's birthday had gone, maybe she's like that for every birthday?

I still don't get all the giggling though. Was it the boy that came over? His sorry ass wasn't coming to my party.

Maybe I should have judo-throwed them into the locker after all.

The bigger surprise was everyone getting confused by everyone's age. Tomorrow I was 12, Angela was 14 from last year, and Jessi... would be 14 next month.

Knowing what I know, I didn't know what to say or think about that. I'd have to set some time for it after this weekend.

 **Oo0oO**

Today was new comic day, Tomorrow is my birthday.

This would be my first "big" birthday, with a party and friends and everything. not like what I had before.

It would also be my first real birthday with Dave. And this was both good and bad.

Tomorrow he was going to get a very hard reminder that I was just now going to be twelve. And thinking about what Max told me about what he did that first time I got on my knees for him...

Even clenching my fist like this hurt, thanks to the bruises. It was nothing though in comparison to what I did.

I hurt him in a way that showed just how little I knew about people. Thanks to me Dave no longer was sure he was a good person. He was, but good people didn't do things with people my age.

Hell, if I had chanced upon someone like him with someone my age, I'm pretty sure I would've been pretty fucking brutal with him.

It was going to be hard to keep Hit Girl, me, this thing it was okay to be with, to let me do the things I wanted to do to him, when tomorrow I had a party hat on and was blowing out a mere dozen candles.

I heard him come out of the bathroom, changed, and ready for sparring.

"We'll keep this light today, just the tendons." I told him, rolling my shoulders to get the kinks out and settle the body armor into place under my loose sweatshirt. "Can't have you whimpering like a bitch when we go see Marty after all."

He met my smirk with a grimace and a crouched stance.

Time to teach.

 **Oo0oO**

After visiting Marty, chatting with the other heroes, and him stopping by a hardware store to pick up some dull black spraypaint for me (Doesn't count as a present, they just don't sell the good stuff to little kids), I was home again.

I'd head back to the bolthole early on Sunday, during my morning jog, grab the Little Daves and do more clean up, and get it ready for further use. I should be good for the weekend, after a few more last minute preparations.

Critical preparations.

With Marcus downstairs watching TV (A rerun of COPS no less!) I dug out of the duffel bag the lower half of my suit, the one I got shot in a while back. With the top half basically no longer usable, at least near Marcus who would spot the patched up hole and start asking questions about said bullet holes, the bottom half was still good and amendable to modification.

First, the egg. I had bought spare batteries yesterday, though I don't exactly recall when, and a quick swap of the C-Cells confirmed that it was still working, despite the abuse I had put it through on Wednesday.

I laid out a bit of cardboard, carefully taped off the upper half of the cord and the buttons, and took the spray paint to it. Then, with a Q-tip which I'd sprayed a bit hard with the paint, I quickly daubed at the buttons and the twisty knob until it matched and no pink showed.

Letting that dry, I opened the window air the room out while I fished out three clips and the two leg harnesses I dug out of an old box.

I didn't really need the extra clips all told. Anything that needed more than what I carried on my belt normally should be taken care of with an assault weapon or roomsweeper. Or a flamethrower or something.

I tossed on the pants and then attached the thigh straps. Three clips went in, two on one leg and one on the other, low enough that they wouldn't catch on the skirt.

Then I sat on the bed to see how it felt laying on them.

Yeah, if it's that bad on a soft bed, then it's definitely not going to be fun to lay on these on anything harder.

I shuffled them so that they were on each side of my leg. Much better. I can't roll onto my side without problems, but, I can lay on my back or my front with no trouble. Good enough.

So, two clips on the outsides, one on the inside, and one black egg remote and cable on the inside. Looked pretty good in the mirror, no way to obviously tell unless you got real close.

Off went the pants and out came the knife.

A small hole on the inside of the thigh let me push the egg and cord in, which fed upwards.

All assembled, it was time to test it. A little petroleum jelly and the vibe stick, and I'd tapped the egg back up in me. I'd grabbed a small bundle of pads, odour absorbing and all that, and strapped that to my panties. Then, a bit awkwardly, I shuffled into my pants, adjusted the cable a bit so I wouldn't sit on it, and then took a look in the mirror.

I couldn't barely tell I'd done this, even if I looked closely. I squatted, kicked, even did a little roll on my bed. Nada. Everything stayed where it was supposed to.

Then I practiced discretely nudging it on and off. I had to reach for it with my hand, I couldn't nudge it with my other leg, but an adjustment of my skirt, brush some dirt off of my butt, scratch an itch, adjust a clip...

Excellent. That puts me as ready as I can be.

The pants and everything went into the duffel bag, and I decided to crash early. No sense not recovering as much as I could.

Saturday would have me visit the Doc, then my birthday would commence.


	55. Chapter 45

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 45

 _Author's Note: The fabled birthday party. Precocious Crush Chapter 68. In that time Mindy went from the Easter Massacare to late May._

 _Amazing how much time can pass in so few chapters. Or be filled..._

* * *

Oh for fucks sakes Max, I said I was sorry, you didn't have to come to my birthday party.

In all my zeal and prep work I forgot to chat with you and update the diary, so, now I'm doing it.

Call off the fucking Maid-Man. I can see him from my window.

Don't make me go out there!

 **Oo0oO**

The birthday party was pretty much what I'd seen in TV's and the movies, so I knew what to do for the most part.

The tally thus far:

\- Angela and Jessi were having a lot of fun with me.  
\- Marcus was relaxing and watching, though not playing with us. Not getting his ass whooped I said loudly as I marched by, but he didn't rise to the bait.  
\- Todd would be absent, some guild thing he had to do.  
\- And Dave would be late, texting me to say he had to cover a dickhead who didn't show for a couple hours.

I was enjoying myself enough that the last thing wasn't a deal breaker.

The games were pretty easy, and the tickets came in large buckets when I was done with them.

It was fun.

And then I heard Dave call my name.

I put on my best smile, turned, and saw him.

Flanked by you and the Maid-Man, dressed casually in character.

 **Oo0oO**

I will admit, every time I go completely unarmed, which is pretty rare, you manage to show up in person like you're some sort of psychic, or are watching me dress in the morning.

I will be checking my room again tonight.

My hands snapped to two spots on my back, where I normally had a gun and a knife, but they hit nothing but jeans and the fat suit. I relaxed them before Marcus could notice. In all the reflective surfaces I could see, my smile looked a bit sickly.

My eyes roamed, resting on the pizza-slicey-wheel-thing and the pizza server. Decent handles, the cutter wheel thing was sharp, and I'm fairly certain the server's wide flat blade could deflect a knife or two...

I started inching towards them while keeping Max and the Maid-Man in sight.

"Mindy!" Dave shouted again. "Look who I met up with when I finished my shift."

Dave, Dave, _Dave_. Walking between two folks who could perforate your organs like I'd been training you in all this last week, and you don't do any of the defensive covering like I showed you. Someone's getting remedial lessons next week.

"Ah, Mindy. I must have missed you yesterday. It was new comics day after all." Max approached carefully as Duke, hand on his cane. Despite his age, not even what he looked like now, I'm fairly certain he could hold me off for a solid minute even if I was armed to the teeth. All the time needed for the Maid-Man to circle and drop me.

He stopped and leaned forward on his cane with both hands, coincidentally just out of stabbing range of either item on the table, even if I lunged a bit. "I haven't spoken to you in some time, oh yes."

Without taking his eyes off of me he gestured casually to his left. "Sadly, the Esteemed Government," You could hear the capital letters being salted with contempt. "Has decided in it's infinite wisdom that due to my age and the fact that my hands shake a tad in inclement weather that my driver's license will no longer be renewed. This is Cato."

He looked like a generic Asian in tan slacks and white long sleeved shirt. I'm certain he had at least three weapons on his person, I would have if dressed like that.

He smiled and offered me his hand to shake, his other hand held a large gift bag from some sort of boutique.

"A pleasure." Zero accent.

Could I get him in the throat if the bag hampered his hands?

 _Maybe_... Better not. "Nice to meet you." Interesting. You could feel the callouses, but I didn't see them when he offered his hand. I wonder how he does that. Makeup? Paint?

"He drives for me now, and much as I hate to admit it, a young man's back is quite the handy thing to have when things need to be carried." He nodded his head absently in agreement with himself still without taking his eyes off me. "Which reminds me, your present."

From the bag the Maid-Man was carrying, came a small box, which was passed to Max and then to me. "When I found Dave at his workplace, I offered him a ride since I hadn't caught either of you yesterday. Then I found out it was your birthday and asked if we could detour a tad so I could pick something up for you. I hope you like it."

Inside the box was two items, one I withdrew to display. Another bottle of perfume, one that looked like and smelled like his first one.

"It's what my wife used to wear." He said gruffly, seeming slightly embarrassed. "The only one I know of really."

"Ooh this one is expensive." Cooed Angela, leaning over my shoulder to peer at it. "And nice too!"

Even Jessi had come over and was examining it carefully.

With them so close, I had to discretely tip the little box over to grab the other item inside, a USB stick.

It didn't need to be handed to me this way, in front of everyone. Why it was in there?

I palmed it and transferred it to my jeans carefully. "You didn't have to."

He thumped his cane with a quiet harrumph. "Half the joy of being old is spoiling the young." Gesturing with his free hand he added. "You haven't introduced me to your pretty friends yet."

He had Angela blushing in two minutes, and Jessi a minute later. Nothing he said was ribald or lecherous, He just did that thing that old people can do to make you feel utterly self-conscious and then forgive you for it. He made them feel young and beautiful. He hadn't even given them his name yet.

And then came Marcus, who had seen at least some of what had happened between us, but I'm not sure what exactly.

He finished his beer, wiped his hands on his jeans, and got up and ambled over.

Marcus doesn't amble, not unless he's up to something.

"Name's Marcus, Marcus Jones." And offered his hand to shake.

And he's off. Trying one of the oldest tricks in the book, the ' _Can I get you to say my real last name by accident_ ' routine.

"A pleasure. Duke. Duke Togo." Here was Max, smiling, shaking hands with a capital C Cop. I'm expecting the sky to bleed any moment now.

"Mindy never mentioned you before. How did you two meet?" Oh great, now I had to keep an ear out in case Marcus grilled me later.

So much for wandering off and having fun.

 **Oo0oO**

It was the eeriest thing I'd ever experienced, and I've seen some _weird_ shit.

Max joined us, sat between Marcus and Angela, and blended in so quickly it scared me.

Here I had Dave next to me, no Katie to interrupt, and I barely noticed as Max chatted with Marcus, teased Angela, and argued comics with Dave.

I didn't taste my pizza either.

Jessi seemed like she wanted to talk to Marcus about something now that I think about it. I don't think she did though.

Cato sat at the next table, accepted a slice, and waved away offers for a beer. He had to drive after all.

Max had a couple of slices of pizza, a beer, and stayed around to see the rest of the presents being unwrapped, with his sparking everyone else to get theirs out early, and left before Karaoke.

I will admit, I really wanted to see him sing if only to add to the surrealism of it all. He probably could do it pretty well.

But first, the presents.

Angela got me a box set of The Vampire Diaries, which I no doubt will go over looking for spots where I'd shank said vampire if it were me he was trying to fuck with.

Jessi got me a trade paperback of the Kick-Ass comic which Dave and I have been avoiding, as if a camera adds ten pounds, then a comic adds twice that and some horrid lusts of the artist.

Marcus got me a Wii, which I will have to be seen playing a bit, and that left one more, Dave.

Dave got me the latest disc of that _fucking boy band_. And I had to smile and thank him too in front of everyone, and Max.

Clearly I haven't stabbed him enough with these smarmy fucks yodeling in the background.

Dave must have seen the blunt pencil in my gaze, as when we had an instant alone he whispered "I'll give you your real present when we're alone." into my ear.

And like that, I was fine.

More than fine.

 **Oo0oO**

Max left first, Cato in tow.

Then Angela and Jessi called their parents to be picked up. When Angela's parents got there I realized that Jessi hadn't even reached her Dad yet, but Angela's mom offered to give her a ride home, so I don't think it was a problem. Not yet anyways.

We didn't go out that night, you can't get anything done with that much cake and pizza in your guts. But I dragged out a promise for Sunday, at least a stakeout if nothing else.

Dave promised to bring my real present then. And oh did I have a present for him.

And naturally, when I got to my room, Cato had been by, and I had brand new poster of that boy band, mostly shirtless. Surprisingly well groomed too, I don't think they had a hair from the neck down to their jeans.

 **Oo0oO**

That night, I placed the perfume bottle on my stand and turned to my other present, the USB stick.

Why did he not leave it here on my desk when I was out? Was it a power play? A threat?

Max didn't need to threaten, he just had you killed.

Was it to warn me of something? But why not privately?

I plugged in the stick.

In it a single folder.

 **Happy_Birthday**

And in that, three video files. No names, just dates.

I tried the first, which was dated a week before that time with Dave on the roof.

I turned it on, then lunged for my headphones.

It was Dave and Katie and they were fucking _hard_.

I glanced back behind me at the door. Shut, locked, and the wooden doorstop was in place. Even then I kept one ear off in case Marcus called. I didn't think he would, he was enjoying some beers and a baseball game in the living room.

 **Oo0oO**

It was a bit fuzzy, a bit tinny sounding, and it was in black and white, and the angle was clearly from the vent in the upper area of the room.

It was absolutely _incredible_.

I flicked through it. Almost a solid hour, different positions, different speeds. And the sounds he and Katie made.

I studied her intently. The way her tits bobbed as she bounced on him, or how they splayed out naturally when she was on her back, or how they dangled when he did her doggy style.

I'd seen her in her bikini, and once briefly riding Dave. Here was her in action.

I had to do this, I had to _be_ this. I had to ride him like this. My tits had to do that, fill his hands like hers did. When I lay on top of him mine had to pillow against his chest like those did.

Then he wouldn't need her. I'd be enough.

I'd watch this later. Many times.

 **Oo0oO**

The second one was dated ten days after I did what I did to him on the roof.

They were on his bed and she was sucking him off.

It went on for almost twenty minutes before she gave up.

She couldn't get him off.

I knew why now, but if I had been kept in the dark like Max had intended I would have had nothing but an epic swelled head watching that. But since I knew, it now made more impressed at how well Max had set this up.

He'd given me all the tools I needed and I had trained thoroughly to use them.

 **Oo0oO**

The last video was the most compelling. Not even three days old. Last Thursday. It was just him at his desk, looking at something on his computer screen back to the camera.

And he was jacking it.

He finished, but it took him an hour and a half, with me skimming along. He used headphones so I couldn't hear what he was watching, and the video was too low resolution for me to get anything but vague glimpses of something from the edges of his head, but had two hints from zooming in and repeating it over and over.

One was a set of bookmarks in his Web browser, on the far left and two folders in. Give me a bit of time and I'd find that.

The other was a folder in the lower corner he used at the end. I don't think it was a video, the screen didn't appear to move, but that was also something I could snag.

 **Oo0oO**

Max hadn't chosen those videos randomly, it was a lesson.

He showed me what I wanted, what he'd done to prepare me, and how soon it'd be before I went again, all without a word. Just by showing me Dave's reaction.

All the efforts I had been working around Max had lead to little results, save for my efforts on Wednesday. That was critical yes, but could Max have found a different way? Maybe a better one?

Who can say?

If nothing else Max, you'll be getting more information from me after the weekend.

I just have to prepare for tomorrow. You know why.


	56. Chapter 46-C

Bordering on a dangerous obsession. Chapter 46-Secret Diary

 _Author's Note: Apologies, but this last month has been... messy._

 _Well I'll try to pick up the pace. Won't be promising though. Stupid recession._

* * *

I think I laid it on a little thick there with all the Max butt kissing, but I had to make sure he thought he had me whupped in this, our battle of wits.

Don't get me wrong, the videos were incredible. So much to learn, so much to practice, it'd help me immensely.

But I was fairly certain that all I did to myself on Wednesday was what he was really after. All the nitty gritty of that night. And these videos were supposed to help nudge me into telling him.

And while I respected him immensely, I couldn't blindly trust him, not about me and Dave. While he was repaying a debt, that clearly wasn't all he was doing.

And he'd never once directly demanded the information from me. Always hinting. Suggesting. Implying.

A damn shame I don't remember half of that night. Shit got awful hazy about an hour after I used the Orange Jar. The mix of pain in the upper half and pleasure in the lower half, it all whirled into nothing but indiscriminate sensation... I think it was like one of those trance things some people practice, though I wasn't putting hooks in my back, no sirree.

In any event, _something_ happened. I had smashed a mirror through all the Plexiglas and chicken wire I put up, I had replaced the batteries in the egg's remote once, I had cried at some point, and I had bit the thicker Little Dave so much it looked like it was tossed in a dingo pit for a night.

I don't remember doing any of those things.

And yet I'm still here, still me.

Though I was working on that.

That Max wanted that info meant it had value. In time he'd get it from me, but by then I had to have more. I'd have to keep ahead of the curve.

And that meant keeping the Doc on my side.

I had a pretty good idea how, but more on that later.

 **Oo0oO**

Sunday, the day after my birthday, had me up bright and early, despite the greasy food and cake I'd gorged on.

Another nightmare, I'd been having them ever since Thursday.

I figured it was due to what I did to myself. If they didn't go away soon, I might have to talk to Max about them.

After exercise, food and my now vastly reduced pills regimen, I got ready to go for a jog.

 **Oo0oO**

I had gone back to the bolthole in the wee hours of Sunday to see if I could salvage the place.

Someone had been there.

At this point, I'm not going to say how I know, I'd like to keep that particular ace up my sleeve, only that at least one, maybe two people have gone in. And they'd worked very hard to conceal the fact.

The Maid-Man had to be one of them, I'd seen him I think when I was heading from here to the Safehouse.

So, I carefully went in, disarmed the bomb, and did a quick check, I didn't have too much time before Marcus got up.

It was minute, but someone had been by. Nothing was taken, in fact I found both Little Dave's in short order.

If nothing was taken then that meant something had been added.

I didn't reach for the bugsweeper I had in my hoodie, I didn't want to give away that I could tell. If he knew, he'd simply try a different type, less effective no doubt, but something I couldn't catch as easily.

So, why did Max want to know about Wednesday so badly?

I adjusted the bomb so instead of an explosion, it'd just burst and burn and spread.

MRE's, lime, water, cots. Nothing that would be missed.

I'll jump to #9 I think, it should be harder to find by ghosting me, and any noise I make shouldn't be a problem.

I set the timer for five minutes.

 **Oo0oO**

Marcus took his Sunday's late, especially with all the beer he'd had watching the game after my party.

I waited until he was moderately conscious before asking if I could set up the Wii on the TV.

It should be good way to whittle a couple of hours before I went back to my room for a nap. It'd make him feel good about his present choice. Heck, it might even be a bit of fun.

 **Oo0oO**

After the nap, I did one more trial run of things in my room.

As I suspected, I couldn't still look at myself doing things to Little Dave. A new spare mirror confirmed it.

I didn't try to force it, force wasn't the answer. I know, I never thought I'd ever say that with a straight face either.

But after a quick shimmy into both the lower half of my modified costume, and the egg I'd attached into it, I tried again.

Egg pushed in as far as it could go, phone set both to record and chime an alarm after five minutes in case things got too fuzzy. And placed carefully out of swinging distance, just to be sure.

With a wink to the camera, I switched the egg on to a steady 5 and got started.

With it going, looking at my reflection with a dick was easy. So easy. It barely felt like me at all.

 **Oo0oO**

I didn't need the alarm, I stopped after four minutes and a number of techniques I'd practiced.

Switching the egg off, I got out of the bottom half of the costume before I could get it dirty. Tissues were nearby as I popped the egg out, just in case.

I was wet, like slut-wet, but not make a mess of the sheets wet. A single tissue was sufficient. It would go into the toilet shortly, no way in hell was I leaving that in the trash bin to stink up the room.

For good measure I used a bit of air freshener to guarantee it.

Then, with fresh underwear and jogging pants on. I watched myself on the phone.

It was beyond creepy.

My face was... off. It wasn't like Jessi's was that one time, that pro escort face she'd taken off while I watched in the tree. No, it was much cruder. My eyes were barely open and kind of glazed, like I wasn't really all there, like I was high on something. I was also blushing, and worst of all, as my head went up and down, _up and down_ , flecks of spit marred her cheeks, and drool trickled down my chin.

I had a Hit Girl and a Fuck mode now. Still terrible with the naming, I know. I'd work on it.

Still it sucked when it was supposed to, licked and nibbled when it was supposed to, and it pushed the rubber dick deep into her -my- throat without hesitation for the finale. My eyes crossed when I did, which blew any thought of looking seductive out of the water with a .50-cal.

But, it didn't bite, didn't crush anything, didn't reach for a weapon.

Crude, but it'll do for now. I'd work out something better later.

I went for a shower.

 **Oo0oO**

After dinner, I spent the last hour just laying on my bed, deep in thought.

 _Innocence_.

Innocence was the only answer I could come up with for how I made it through that first time.

It sounds absurd, me being innocent about anything, but I had been horribly naive about the whole thing from the get-go. All my initial plans about getting together with Dave were ignorant and childish when I go back and reread them. Like I could offer him anything that Katie couldn't.

It was like a tugboat going against a damn battleship. The big guns helped a lot in a fight.

And in my innocence I had treated the practice as exactly that. Practice. Not sex.

I was careful, neat, and precise. It didn't taste like anything, no one was watching (they better fucking not, heads would _literally_ roll), and nothing smelled.

And then I did it for real, I sucked Dave until he came in my mouth. I smelled and tasted it, tasted him, and it was messy and noisy...

And then the old lessons came bubbling up. The old rules. Things carved into me by Daddy.

 **\- Pedos had to die, screaming.  
** ( _Dave wasn't a pedo! He liked big tits!_ )

\- **The only time a dick could be in my hand is if my other had a knife ready to saw it off the Pedo who waved it at me.  
** ( _Dave didn't do anything! I did it all!_ )

\- **The only things a man could splatter on me was blood, tears, and the occasional bit of brain matter.  
** ( _The fault was mine! I let it drizzle on my lips._ )

\- **I could never be like my mother. Ever.  
** ( _I wasn't!_ )

\- **A whore.  
** ( _I wasn't... there was a difference…_ )

I had danced through a minefield without even knowing it was there until the very end.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone buzzing.

 _Dave_.

Time to pack up and go.

My present was waiting.

 **Oo0oO**

It was the same rooftop as before. We couldn't let this place become a habit, too many spots to be seen, or sniped.

Still, it was a special place for me, and Dave knew that.

A perfect place to unwrap a present.

And it was a weapon, a staff that hid two swords.

Just like Daddy, Dave got me the _best_ of presents.

Functional, sturdy, blunt, and then open it up and it's beautiful, sharp, and deadly. It represented everything about me. About what I was trying to be.

Did he know?

I twirled the staff in the forms I had trained in and tried not to grin like a maniac. Okay, I let a little bit of a grin out, I couldn't help it.

And waited for the perfect moment.

A gunshot. A .38 special if I didn't miss my guess. A couplea miles away from the echoes but the acoustics of the buildings and the wind made it sound closer. We heard them a few times a night, or at least I did, but then I knew by ear pretty much every caliber and grain count on the street.

Dave didn't, and so he turned and went to the edge of the railing of the rooftop, looking for the source.

His back was to me and I figured there wasn't gonna be a better moment tonight.

I carefully stalked closer. The rough gravel didn't make it easy.

And then I tossed the staff behind me and leapt for his back.

 **Oo0oO**

Sentimentality almost did me in. I didn't want to ding the staff, and I didn't toss it far or hard. Thus it hit the ground while I was still jumping and Dave heard it hit the gravel.

Then he heard the sound of my knife leaving its sheath.

He reacted beautifully. Everything we practiced came together and he stopped the blade inches from his neck as I landed on his back.

I wrapped my legs around him from behind and locked my feet around his waist, then I brought my free arm to both strangle and help leverage the knife closer.

Final exam Dave. Can you figure it out?

He grunted at my weight and wheezed around the elbow lock on his throat. The knife inched closer.

He whirled and spun, but I had my legs locked tight and his spinning just made the choking worse.

He couldn't pry my arms free, couldn't dislodge me, and one possible solution, slamming me against a wall or corner, was too far away.

From my position I could see him gritting his teeth now, and personal experience with a good strangling or three had me guess what stage he was at now. The edges of his vision were probably starting to fade, and that primal panic, that desperate need to breathe, was setting in.

It was an almost nostalgic sight, I must have been eight when Daddy did it to me over and over until I knew what to do and to not panic.

What now Dave?

And then he surprised me.

 **Oo0oO**

The Brazilian Leaping Jugular Cut was designed to incapacitate a target, and specifically for teams to use. Brazil had a lot of alleys and narrow spaces for ambush. It was made for a smaller assailant to get the drop on a larger and stronger opponent. Even if it failed, the target was effectively helpless for others to close in and do the deed.

Dave didn't know any of that. All he knew was that I was on his back and he had to get me off.

 _Of him_. Off _of_ him. Phrasing, I know, shut up.

And so he went to the edge of the building, toward the guardrails. He kept one hand against mine to keep the knife at bay but his other went to my feet and gripped them where they met at the ankles.

It took me a few seconds to figure it out, and by then we were airborne.

Dave had planted a foot on the middle rail and launched himself backwards towards the gravel. And he'd trapped my arms and legs so when we hit, I'd take the brunt of it.

It was a terrible solution, yet a perfect one. He would be extra helpless if this were a team takedown, but against just me...

My breath whooshed out of my lungs as he rammed me into the rooftop, and I could hear my cape scratching and tearing against the jagged gravel.

And his back and shoulders, they squashed my armor into my chest _hard_. Man did it hurt, I almost _moaned_.

The shock of the impact made my limbs go slack, and he capitalized on it. Rather than trying to climb loose and leave me behind him still armed with the knife, he instead twisted around until he was facing me, grabbed my hands, and bashed them until I lost grip of the knife. As it clattered against the gravel, he pinned both of my hands with one of his own above my head, using his greater weight to deny me any leverage to escape.

His other hand, now free, reared back to hammer my face in, then abruptly stopped as he realized what he was about to do.

I was pinned.

 **Oo0oO**

He was panting, and what skin of his face I could see was rapidly regaining proper color. I was panting too, though not from having the wind knocked out of me, Daddy had made sure I had proper breathing and diaphragm control. It'd take very specific blows or a very thorough boot fucking to make me breathless.

I was panting because of the position I was in. _We_ were in.

He was between my legs. What had been a fine jockey lock from behind was now a textbook missionary when he was facing me. I didn't have any ankle or boot blades, no knee spikes.

I was pinned, no leverage, I couldn't even bite him, and I had no mouth darts to spit at his eyes.

And he was hard. I could feel him press against me.

He still had a hand free. He could do what he wanted, take what he wanted.

I had to say the words.

"I give up."

 **Oo0oO**

With Daddy, those were words you never ever say. I must have been seven the last time I did. It was the third time I could recall saying it ever, and we'd stopped the spar then and there.

I remember how disappointed he had been, and how I didn't get any desert that night. I got the belt instead.

With Daddy, you kept going until you passed out or were taken out. Never quit. Never give up.

But Daddy was dead, and now I was with Dave.

And it's all right if it's Dave.

Things were different.

 **Oo0oO**

At my words he relaxed slowly, I could tell from how he was pressed against me. But he didn't let go of my hands, he wasn't that stupid.

Our faces were only a few inches apart. I could feel his breath on my face.

"A bit unorthodox, but you finally figured it out."I said to him. Then I carefully went limp.

I think that made him even harder. It felt like it, but I couldn't see it with my skirt in the way, not unless I wanted to break eye contact.

And I didn't want to break eye contact.

He was staring at me but I don't think he was seeing me. Not _me_ me, but the me I promised him on this very roof, not that long ago.

His personal _Cunt_. (That's what I should call it!)

And even with me breathing in his face, his dick at full mast in-between my legs, me limp and not resisting, he still wouldn't give in and fuck me.

That's how I know Dave is a good person, even if he doubts himself.

And to keep him that way, I had to make sure I did it all, keep his hands clean so to speak.

So I smiled up at him. Small, but proud.

"I think that calls for a reward."


End file.
